


A Midwinter Night's Dream

by MockingJayFlyingFree



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Midwinter, Panem AU, Tumblr: promptsinpanem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MockingJayFlyingFree/pseuds/MockingJayFlyingFree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss made it to 18 without being reaped. Her friend Madge talks a very reluctant Katniss into going to her first Midwinter Dance. It’s a decision she instantly regrets.</p><p>Written for Prompts in Panem: Holidays in Panem 2014. Panem AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

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> Thank you to Lbug84 for betaing and Chelzie for prereading! 
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> I’m a small town girl. Let’s just say I can definitely relate to this kind of party.

**_Katniss_ **

I never should have agreed to this.

I look nervously around the room. I can barely feel my fingers, and my shoes are wet. The melting snow in my hair is dripping down my neck, causing me to shudder. It’s warm in here, though. It's a relief after being outside, but I can already tell that it will feel too warm very soon. It doesn't help that it reeks of sweat and white liquor in here, either.

“Come on, Katniss,” Madge says.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“What?”

It’s almost impossible to hear anything over the fiddler and the drunken singing. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I repeat, louder this time and closer to her ear.

“Because you sit at home with your mother and sister every Saturday night. You’re 18, Katniss. You’re _free_! You need to get out of the house more.” Madge is an only child. She doesn’t understand that I don’t consider surviving to 18, despite all the tesserae I’ve taken out, a success. Not as long as Prim is still eligible for the reaping. And if she’s reaped next year, I can’t volunteer for her. “Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling.”

“You are. Take off your coat and throw it in the heap on that table over there.” Madge has clearly been to these dances before, but I haven’t, because she's right; I do stay at home every Saturday night.

I reluctantly take off my winter coat. It’s from my mother’s merchant days and it's the nicest coat I've got, even though it’s old and worn, and both of the elbows are patched. I set it on the top of the pile. I hope I’ll be able to find it again at the end of the night. Or sooner, because I’ll be out of here as soon as I can find an excuse to leave.

I nervously smooth down the skirt of my green dress. It’s a summer dress, but with a silver gray shawl covering my shoulders, I guess I'm dressed appropriately for both the occasion and the weather.

“Here,” Madge says under her breath, and hands me a bottle.

I eye it suspiciously. “Where did you get this, Madge?”

“The Hob, of course.”

“ _You_ went to the Hob?” Good Town girls don’t go there. I only go out of necessity. It's the best place to trade for food, salt, and fabric. I hunt alone now that Gale is in the mines six days a week, so the haul is not as profitable as it was back when we were both hunting daily.

Now Gale and I only hunt together on Sundays. Although it’s been pretty awkward lately... since the kiss.

I hesitantly swallow a mouthful of Madge's liquor, and I instantly start coughing. “Not used to liquor, sweetheart?” I hear someone say behind me. I turn to see Haymitch Abernathy, the alcoholic victor. He’s grinning at me.

I dry my eyes and don’t bother to answer him as I hand the bottle back to Madge. “So what do we do now?”

“We drink, dance and have fun.” I grimace at her suggestions. “Or you could always make out with someone in a dark corner.”

“Madge!”

“That’s why people come to these parties, you know.”

I groan. “Shut up.” She laughs. Her Town blue eyes are a bit glassy. I think she’s had more than just a mouthful of white liquor. “Is that what _you’re_ hoping to do tonight?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.” She looks over my shoulder, and she lifts an eyebrow. “But I know someone who’s _definitely_ hoping to make out in a dark corner tonight.”

“Who?” I turn around. I instantly regret it when I meet a pair of blue eyes from across the room.

“Peeta Mellark,” Madge breathes in my ear. “He’s been staring at you from the moment we came in through the door.”

The boy with the bread.

Yes. Attending this dance was definitely a bad idea.

 

**_Peeta_ **

I’m speaking with Rye and one of his asshole friends, Branch. They do most of the talking. Branch just got married, and I’m hearing a _lot_ more about their marital activities than I ever wanted to.

I see Katniss as soon as she enters the room, and for a second, it’s as if everything else freezes.

There is no electricity tonight, no surprise there, and the bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling are dark. Instead, the room is lit by oil lamps on tables and torches on the wall. Katniss is standing close to one of the torches. The flames flicker, making her glow, as if she’s on fire. Her hair is down tonight, and as her hand reaches up to tuck a lock behind her ear, I suddenly find it hard to breathe. I’ve only ever seen her hair braided. But tonight, with her luscious curls and waves flowing freely over her shoulders, she looks the way she does in my dreams.

I shift uneasily, hoping Rye and that idiot Branch won’t notice my growing erection. I roll my eyes at myself. Look at the effect she has on me. All this just from looking at her damn _hair_.

Katniss scowls as she looks around the room, and says something to Madge Undersee.

“Hey, Peeta?”

I blink. “Sorry?”

Rye laughs. “Branch was just saying how much better it is to get head while you're standing, but I guess I can’t expect you to pay attention to anything else when Katniss Everdeen is around.”

“Shut up, Rye,” I hiss.

“Katniss who?” Branch asks.

“Everdeen," Rye says. Branch still looks confused. "She hung out with Gale Hawthorne all the time at school. She's thin, with gray eyes-”

“You just described pretty much every girl in the Seam,” Branch complains.

“I said she _hung out_ with Gale Hawthorne, not that she was _fucking_ Gale Hawthorne, so that pretty much leaves you with only Everdeen,” Rye says. Everyone knows Gale has taken a fair number of girls to the slag heap. “Although I bet that’s what they did half the time in the forest.” Rye snickers as he looks at me, clearly gauging my reaction.

I have to breathe slowly to stay calm. I take a sip from my bottle to clear my head. Or maybe to avoid having to say something right away.  The liquor burns as it goes down my throat, but I ignore the sensation.

“Peeta’s been _looking_ at Katniss Everdeen since he was, like, six years old.” Five. But who’s counting.

Branch eyes Katniss up and down. “She’s a fine piece of ass, I’ll give her that. A little scrawny, but all Seam girls are. But it shouldn’t really take you _that_ long just to hook up with a Seam slut, Peeta. You need to work on your game. I thought you were getting advice from your brothers?”

Asshole. I want to punch him in his face. Instead, I mutter another “shut up”.

I gulp down some more white liquor and try not to stare at Katniss as she follows Madge through the crowd. Katniss never comes to these dances. I know, because I come to all of them. I always hope that she’ll show up, but she never has. Not until tonight.

I’ve thought about this so many times. The fantasies are always the same. I’d walk over to her and we’d start talking. We'd dance, and I’d feel her body against mine. I'd pull her away from the dance floor and take her someplace quiet. She'd laugh at my jokes, and we’d even talk about the deep stuff. I’d walk her home and end the evening with a kiss.

In my head, there is never any hesitation on my part. There is no awkwardness. I always know what to say and what to do. But now that she’s actually here, I’m clutching my bottle desperately as I stare at her from across the room, and I know, I just _know_ , that if I actually walk over to her and try to talk to her, I’ll make a complete ass of myself.

I take another pull from the bottle and sigh. What the hell do I do now?

 

**_Katniss_ **

I follow Madge as she makes her way through the crowd. She hands me the bottle, and I take another mouthful. It doesn’t burn quite as much this time.

The room is large, but it’s still packed with people. Most of them are drunk. Everyone's singing, dancing, or – yes, Madge was right – making out in dark corners. It’s noisy, crowded, and confusing. I don’t get what this has to do with Midwinter at all. In fact, I don’t even know why we celebrate Midwinter in the first place. It’s the darkest day of the year, sure. Starting tomorrow, the days will gradually get longer. But winter has just begun, really. The hunger will only get worse with every passing week. Some of us will lose family members soon. What’s there to celebrate? Nothing at all.

“Katniss.”

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of me. Damn it.

“Gale.” I try to smile. It’s been more than half a year now, since that night after my last reaping. We were in the woods, and out of the blue, he said that he _loved_ me. He kissed me before I had the chance to figure out how to respond. When he released me, I turned around and ran - actually _ran_ \- back to town. It hasn’t been the same between us ever since.

“Well, this is a first.” I can smell the white liquor on him.

“Madge talked me into coming,” I explain.

Gale looks from me and over to Madge. She looks perfectly Merchant tonight. Her long, blonde curly hair, slightly chubby cheeks, and clear blue eyes all compliment her red dress. She’s beautiful. And Gale can't take his eyes off of her.

“Hey there, Madge,” he says, and she actually _blushes_. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

They’ve seen each other?

She tilts her head and looks up at him. He’s so much taller than her. “I’ve been busy.”

No. She has not been busy.

There’s an awkward silence. “Well.” Gale clears his throat nervously. He nods over to some of his friends. Miners, of course. “I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“Sure,” I answer. Madge doesn’t say anything. When Gale’s a safe distance from us, I turn towards my friend but she's looking at the floor. I lift an eyebrow. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

“You _like_ him," I accuse, with wide eyes. “ _Gale_?”

“No, I don’t,” she hisses, but her blush is answer enough.

“How long has this been going on?”

She looks uncomfortable. “Um… I’ve thought he was really cute for years, I guess, but he never gave me the time of day. But then this fall, we’ve sort of made out a few times. At dances.”

"Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Gale was after _you_ for years. I’ve felt like such a shitty friend.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. You know that I’m not interested in Gale.”

“But you still hang out with him all the time, don’t you?”

“As a _friend._ And we don’t really hang out all the time anymore, not now that he’s working in the mines.”

“He doesn’t exactly look at you in a _friendly_ way.” Madge takes another sip from the bottle. It’s half empty already. She’s going to get sick if she keeps this up. “You really don’t mind?” Her voice is small.

“No.”

She exhales. “That’s such a relief. I was so worried that-" She cuts herself short. “Look, Gale and I are just hooking up, okay? I know he’s not interested in anything _more_ with me, because, well… You know.”

I squirm. I don’t really want to think about it. But the worst thing about this isn’t really Gale, and whatever he may or may not feel for me. It’s Madge. The way she looked at him suggested that she wants something more than just a hook-up from him.

She chuckles and shakes her head. “It’s funny, isn’t it? I am looking at Gale. Gale is looking at you." Her eyes drift over my shoulder. "Peeta Mellark is _also_ looking at you." She looks at me again. "But you? You never look at anyone, do you?”

Peeta again? “What?”

 Madge snorts. “You’re blind, Katniss. You really are.” She laughs and takes my hand. “Whatever. Let’s dance.”

I reluctantly follow her to the dance floor.

 

**_Peeta_ **

In the low and flickering light, the dance is lively. There are lots of seemingly complicated partner changes as the dancers spin around in circles. I’ve known that Katniss has an ear for music since we were little, of course, so I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she’s a great dancer, too. She moves graciously from one partner to the next. She clearly knows the steps, despite not having been to any of these dances before. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is a beautiful mess over her shoulders, and she _smiles_. I’ve rarely seen her smile.

I know that I'm staring at her. I can’t help it, but Katniss is too busy dancing to notice. Rye does, though.

“You are pathetic, you know,” Rye says.

I huff. “Shut up.”

“No, really. This is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re good looking, you’re a nice guy, and you’re Merchant. You can have any girl you want. But the one girl you actually _do_ want is the ice queen of 12, who’s never even looked in your direction.”

The fiddler ends the song, and there’s wild clapping and cheering. Katniss claps, too. Her last dancing partner was a miner, who says something to her as they part, and she laughs in response. I wish I could make her laugh like that.

Rye is right. I am pathetic.

 

**_Katniss_ **

I’m never going to admit this to Madge, but I am actually having fun. I guess all those nights dancing with Prim in our kitchen have paid off. Even though it was hard to practice mixer dances, because there was just the two of us, I don’t mess up the partner changes too badly.

The fiddler takes what appears to be a large mouthful from the small bottle in his pocket, and announces that he’s “gotta go take a leak.” He disappears out the door, into the winter night.

“A song, a song!” a man shouts.

There’s a moment of silence. Then a dark-haired woman, who looks like she’s in her 40s, takes a step forward.  All eyes are fixed on her as she starts singing.

I don’t remember her name, but what I do remember is her husband, dying on my mother’s table after a mining accident last year, and her quiet crying as he did. He was the only one on his team who made it out of the mines alive that day, but the injuries he’d sustained were too much for my mother’s herbs and stitches. All she really had to offer him was some of her precious morphling to ease his passing. Their eldest son is one of Gale’s best friends; in fact, they’re standing next to each other now. They’re watching her with dark eyes and clenched jaws.

Her voice is deep for a woman, and slightly raspy. The mood in the room instantly changes when it’s clear which song she’s singing. Where a moment ago people were dancing and laughing, they are suddenly serious now. It’s a song everyone in the district knows. An old folk song, of love and loss. The woman sings alone for the first few lines, but then people start to sing along until the whole room is singing by the end of the first verse.

 

 _But blond is the color of my true love’s hair_  
His face is like some rosy fair  
The prettiest face and the neatest hands  
I love the ground whereon he stands

 

Not everyone knows the lyrics, but that doesn’t stop them from humming along. I’m warm and flushed from dancing, and I can feel the effect of the white liquor coursing through my veins. I start singing, too. My dad used to sing this song, long ago. I close my eyes, and it’s as if he’s here with me.

_The winter's passed and the leaves are green,_  
 _The time is passed that we have seen,_  
 _But still I hope the time will come  
_ _When you and I shall be as one._

_I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep,_  
 _But satisfied I never could sleep._  
 _I'll write to you in a few short lines,  
_ _I'll suffer death ten thousand times._

There are so many here tonight who have lost a father, a husband, or a son. A tear rolls down my cheek.

_So fare you well, my own true love,_  
 _The time has passed, but I wish you well;_  
 _But still I hope the time will come  
_ _When you and I will be as one._

It’s not until the end of the last verse that I realize that I’m the only one who’s still singing. I open my eyes and find that everyone else is staring wide-eyed at me. I blush, looking bewildered around at the silent crowd. No one says a word.

I dry away the tear, and I’m mortified when I realize that it wasn’t just one. Both my cheeks are wet. Without a word, I push my way through the crowd and leave the dance as quickly as my legs allow me.

 

**_Peeta_ **

It starts out as a song that almost everyone sings along to. But Katniss’s clear voice stands out from the rest, almost from the very beginning, and one by one, people stop singing to listen to her. She’s standing there, looking so beautiful, with her eyes closed and a serene look on her face. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. She seems completely unaware that everyone else has fallen silent, listening to her voice.

She has no idea, the effect that she has. It’s like a dream.

When the last tone dies out, the room is deathly silent. Katniss opens her eyes and looks around, her eyes wide, clearly in shock. She quickly dries her cheeks with the back of her hand. Then she runs out the door. Madge runs out after her.

“Well, I’ll be damned…” Rye murmurs. “Did you know Everdeen can sing like that?”

“Yes,” I confess. But I had forgotten the true effect that her voice has on me.

“Imagine if the text had been ‘black hair’ instead of blond hair. And in a room full of miners… Wow.” He shakes his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Seriously? Did you _see_ her when she sang? And the looks on people’s faces when she did? She _meant_ something to them, to every single person in the room, Seam or Town.” His voice is only a whisper now. “People would follow her, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Follow?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“There are rumors the miners aren’t happy. Well, they’ve been unhappy for decades, I guess, but things are worse than ever now. The shifts are longer, their families are hungrier. More people die in accidents that might not really be all that accidental. There’s even talk of a secret resistance, one that goes far beyond 12.”

The fiddler has started playing again, somewhat hesitatingly at first. The melody is fast and cheerful, in stark contrast to the song Katniss just sang. Surprisingly quickly, the first couple enters the dance floor, and the party soon returns to normal, as if nothing has happened. As if Katniss’s voice didn’t fill the room, making everyone listen to her in awe.

“Rye!” I can barely get the words out. “Where did you hear about that?”

“Bristel.” He was fucking her last summer.

“You shouldn’t talk about it. It’s dangerous,” I hiss.

“So is working in the mines,” he says. He looks across the room to Gale, who’s still standing with his group of miner friends. His brow is furrowed. He doesn’t look sad, he looks… angry.

I keep a close eye on the door. Madge comes back inside, but Katniss doesn’t. Madge stumbles slightly, then disappears into the crowd.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Rye.

“Peeta!” I hear his voice behind me, but I don’t stop.

It’s ice cold outside. It snowed when I walked here earlier tonight, but the sky is clear now. Katniss is standing 10 yards or so away from the door, with her back towards me, looking up at the stars. I can see that she’s shivering. Without thinking, I take my jacket off and put it around her bare shoulders.

She turns around, her eyes wide, and she looks confused when she sees it’s me. Not that I blame her.

“You’re freezing,” I explain. “Are you okay?”

She pulls the jacket tighter around her slim body. She really must be freezing, otherwise I don’t think she’d accept my jacket just like that. She looks up at me, her eyes dark in the flickering lights from the torches that light up the outside of the building. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw Madge coming back inside without you, and I was worried. It’s cold out here.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know. Madge is wasted. I had to send her back inside before she froze to death.”

“And you’re not drunk?”

“Not as drunk as she is,” she says, her voice defensive.

 

**Katniss**

Peeta is shivering in just his light blue button-down shirt. His shoulders are broad, broader than I remembered from school. He’s all muscle. It must be from lifting all those flour sacks in the bakery. His jacket is warm and smells of fresh bread, something sweet I can’t quite identify, and… man.

“Let’s go back inside,” Peeta says. “You’ll get sick.”

“I’m not going inside.”

“Why not?”

Our eyes meet, and when they do, it’s impossible not to think about the bread. I wonder if he even remembers. I suppose he must, though. I saw his face at school the next day. His mother gave him a good beating because of it. That beating, if nothing else, would be reason enough to remember.

“Everyone was _looking_ at me,” I say. It’s hard to explain, even to myself.

“Well, you have an amazing voice.”

I sigh. He clearly doesn’t get it. “I’m not going inside,” I repeat.

“Come on, Katniss. When I followed you out here, the fiddler had already started playing again, and people were dancing and drinking. Half of them are so drunk they have probably forgotten that you were singing already, and if you give them another two minutes, the rest will forget it, too. They won’t _look_ at you.”

I’m not really convinced. Before I can come up with an answer, the door opens, and Gale comes out. His eyes darken when he sees that I’m not alone. Peeta turns around, and he frowns when he sees who it is. I don’t miss the look that passes between them.

“Mellark.”

“Hawthorne.”

Gale walks up to me and leans in close. Too close for my liking. From the corner of my eye I can see that Peeta frowns, but Gale completely ignores him. “Catnip, why don’t you come inside?” Gale hasn’t used his nickname for me since last summer. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he does so now, when I’m standing outside in the cold with another man’s jacket around my shoulders.

“I just needed some fresh air. I’ll be right back.”

Gale crosses his arms over his chest. “That was some pretty impressive singing in there.”

I shrug. “It was just a song.”

“Just a song?” Gale laughs. “Hardly. Why do you think Thom’s mother started singing it? Your own father died in those mines, Katniss. You of all people should know that it wasn’t ‘just a song.’”

I look away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughs, but the sound is bitter. “I’m not surprised. You don’t ever want to talk about anything, do you?”

I glare at him. “That’s enough, Gale.” This is neither the time nor the place. I’ve managed to avoid having this conversation for half a year. I’m definitely not having it here tonight, when Gale is drunk, not to mention in front of someone else.

Gale narrows his eyes. He looks at Peeta. “So now you hang out with Townies, huh?”

I don’t really hang out with anyone, certainly not Peeta Mellark. But I don’t have to explain myself to Gale. Not when he’s behaving like an asshole. Not ever, actually.  “It’s none of your business who I hang out with. I told you I just needed some fresh air. If you want to talk about this later, when you’re not wasted, we can. But right now, I just want you to go back inside.”

For a second, I think Gale’s going to explode. But instead, he mutters something under his breath and goes back inside. He slams the door behind him in anger. I exhale in relief.

Aside from the faint sounds from the party inside, it’s very silent now that we are alone again. Peeta looks down at his feet as he shifts his weight from one to the other. His hands are in his pockets. I don’t know why he doesn’t say anything. He always used to talk to everyone at school, all the time. Everyone but me, that is.

The silence is long and awkward. Then, from behind the corner, I can hear someone puking. “Well, I guess it can always be worse,” he says. I look up at him, confused for a second. Our eyes meet. “I mean, this may be awkward and all, but at least neither of us is puking.” His joke is so unexpected, I can’t help but smile. Peeta smiles back. Then the poor bastard behind the corner, whoever he or she is, vomits again, louder this time. Peeta rolls his eyes, and I actually _giggle_. I never giggle. It must be the white liquor.

“Wow,” he says.

“What?”

“I managed to make Katniss Everdeen laugh,” he explains.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

“Was that a _joke_?”

I scowl, but it’s mainly for show. His eyes are fixed on me. And for some reason, I can’t look away from his face, either. Despite his smile, he’s shivering, and his lips look bluish. “You should go inside,” I tell him.

“I’m not going inside without you.”

“Talking Gale into going back inside was pretty easy, but you don’t give up, do you? Why are you so stubborn?”

“Wow. That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I ever heard it.”

I guess he has a point, although I’ll never admit it.

“I don’t want people to look at me,” I repeat in a low voice. I hate being the center of attention. I never should have come here tonight. And I most certainly shouldn’t have started singing.

He hesitates. “I have an idea,” he finally says. “Follow me.”

He walks around the corner, and we find the man we just heard throwing up. He’s sitting on his knees in the snow, in front of a nasty, brownish pool. I wrinkle my nose. Peeta, however, pulls him to his feet by the shoulders of his button-down shirt, and sends him on his way around the corner. “Go back inside,” he says, and he makes sure that the man has actually gone inside before we continue walking around the house.

“The back door is always open,” he explains. “In case there’s a fire.”

“You’ve been to parties here before,” I say.

“Of course.”

I’m about to open the door when he stops me. “Wait. There’s something I have to warn you about first, though.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a small hallway before we get to the main room. And, well, it’s often _occupied_.”

I look at him, confused. He sighs. “If there’s anyone in there, and there is a very good chance that there is, they may not be… decent.”

“ _Oh_.”

I quickly consider my options. My only other alternative is using the main entrance, and despite what Peeta said about the party returning to normal, I bet people are still looking for me, waiting for me to return. If we use the back door, there’s a good chance we’ll be able to slip inside unnoticed. Whoever’s behind that door, it will most likely be more embarrassing for them than it will be for me. Hopefully, anyway. “Let’s go.”

Peeta was right. I hear a man swearing and a woman shrieking when Peeta opens the door, and I instinctively take Peeta’s hand. Despite being outside in the cold, it’s really warm. His skin is rough and covered in scars. It must be from the ovens in the bakery. I close my eyes and allow him to lead me through the hallway.

I don’t open my eyes until the heat and the noise tell me we’re in the main room. We’re in a dark corner. No one seems to have noticed us at all, and I sigh in relief. I let go of his hand, then take off the jacket and give it back to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles to me. I smile back, nervously.

I scan the room, looking for Madge. Then I see her.

 

**_Peeta_ **

“Well, that certainly didn’t take them long,” she scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“Look over there.” I follow the direction of her gaze. “In the corner.”

I furrow my brow. “Is that…”

“Gale and Madge.” She’s right. It really didn’t take long for Gale to go from calling Katniss ‘Catnip’ and trying to stake his claim on her, to making out with her friend. Her face is serious. “She’s drunk. I have to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t end up with him on the slag heap.”

“No one goes to the slag heap in the winter,” I object.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you? Isn’t that where you Merchant boys take Seam girls? The ones you can’t take home to your mothers?” Her voice is suddenly cold.

“Katniss, I…” She’s right, of course. In general. “Not all Town boys do that,” I say lamely.

Katniss snorts. “Well, most of them do. Not that Seam boys are any better.” She nods over to Gale and Madge again.

“Sorry you had to see that,” I murmur. “I mean, your friend and your…” My voice trails off. What is he to her, exactly? They can’t be together now, not when Gale and Madge are currently making out. “…ex?” I finish lamely.

She glares at me, and I instantly regret saying it. “Gale is _not_ my ex.”

“Really?” Even I can hear that my voice sounds hopeful. Clearly, Katniss does, too.  


 

**_Katniss_ **

I narrow my eyes. “Really,” I confirm. Peeta exhales deeply. He looks… relieved?

I’m confused. But in the back of my head, something is nagging at me. Something Madge said. About how Peeta _looks_ at me. I thought she was just thinking about tonight. But what if she wasn’t? 

I suddenly wish that I had Madge’s bottle. But the alcohol I have already had is making my head spin, just a little. It’s making blood pool in my lower belly, too. Or maybe it’s those blue eyes. I mentally scold myself. Why is Peeta Mellark having this effect on me? It must be the white liquor. I’m never drinking again.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Well, it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Sorry to bring it up.”

I shrug. I should just end this conversation. I’m not even sure what exactly we are talking about, but it’s… weird. But there’s no one else to talk to. I don’t really have any friends here except Gale and Madge, and they are, well… otherwise occupied. Standing alone in a corner at a party, now that’s awkward. What I _should_ do, of course, is go home. But I don’t want to leave Madge in this state. And who knows where my winter coat is in that big pile of dark coats. And…

Excuses, excuses.

Peeta doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at me, either. He’s looking at the people dancing, with a look on his face I can’t quite interpret. I lean my back against the wall. I can’t help but stare at his eyelashes. They are almost ridiculously long for a boy. It’s a miracle they don’t tangle.

“You have really long eyelashes.”

Shit. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

He turns his head to look at me. “Um… I do?” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had. I never thought that when I finally got to…” His voice trails off.

“When you finally got to…?”

“Talk to you. That we’d be talking about Gale and Madge. And my eyelashes.”

I blink. “I’m not very good at talking.” I pause, furrowing my brow. “What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“When you _finally_ got to talk to me?”

He blushes. “It’s just that I… I’ve wanted to talk to you. For a long time. And I could never work up the courage to.”

“Why?”

“You’re pretty intimidating, you know.” He sounds defensive.

"But why would you want to talk to _me_?”

“I, uh…” He swallows deeply. “I like you. A lot. I have for a while.”

This is almost like that talk in the woods with Gale. Except now, I don’t quite know what I’m feeling. But it’s not dread like it was with Gale. It’s not panic, either.

“Katniss? Please say something.”

“What?”

“You’ve just been staring at me for at least a minute without saying anything.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. I mean, I didn’t know that I was. Or that you were looking at me.”

“Well, now you know.” His voice is low. His eyes don’t leave mine. But he doesn’t do what Gale did. He doesn’t just dump this huge thing on me, and then kiss me before I have the chance to react.

It’s like we’ve drifted together. We weren’t standing this close to each other when we started talking, were we? Then I realize it’s _me_. _My_ body has somehow swayed closer to his. I lick my lips. He notices.

“Yes. Now I know.”

I don’t quite know how it happens, but I lean forward, just a little bit, and he does too, or at least I think he does, and then our lips meet. It’s sort of an accident.

It’s just a short, soft kiss. Not that I have much to compare it to. It doesn’t last long. But this time, I don’t feel like running.

My eyes must have fluttered shut during the kiss without my noticing. When I open them, he’s staring back at me. His face is flushed, his pupils so fat that his eyes look almost black. I quickly look around. There are people everywhere, but no one seems to notice us. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. It’s gotten unruly from the snow and the humidity.

His mouth is open, and I can’t help but stare at his lips. Those lips were touching mine, just a moment ago. I never considered kissing anyone before, not really. I just figured it wouldn’t happen to me. I have more serious things to worry about, such as survival. But now, I feel something inside me, a new sensation that grows warmer and spreads from my chest, down through my body.

One of us should say something. And it doesn’t look like he’s going to. “Um…” Great. Well, that was real smooth, Katniss. Now what? I look around, intensely aware that his eyes don’t leave me for a second. The drunken party is the same as ever. But on the other side of the room, Madge and Gale seem to have parted. Madge is leaning against the wall. She must be pissed. She’s swaying.

“I think I should take Madge home,” I say. “That’s going to end in disaster.”

I’m making my escape. I need to go home and figure out what all of this means.

“Yes,” he agrees.

 

**_Peeta_ **

The words just slip out. “Can I take you home?” She freezes, and I quickly try to explain. “I’m going in the same direction, anyway. Madge only lives a few houses down from the bakery.”

“Um… sure.”

“Why don’t you go get her, and I’ll start digging through the pile over there to find our coats.”

Finding Madge’s coat is easy, since it’s one of the very few ones with a fur lining. Besides, it’s right on top of Katniss’s coat, and I know exactly what that one looks like. My own gray coat is at the bottom of the pile, because I was one of the first to arrive.

I walk over to Katniss and Madge. She widens her eyes in surprise when she sees that I’ve retrieved their coats. “How did you find them?”

“I saw you when you came in, and I noticed what you were wearing. That’s all.”

Madge giggles drunkenly. “I told ya, Katnissssss,” she slurs. “Peeta’s _lookin.’_ ”

Katniss looks uncomfortable, and I quickly hold out the coat for Madge, before she has the chance to say anything else. “Here, put this on.”

It’s not really a long walk to Town. Maybe ten minutes. But it takes at least 20 now, with Madge in tow. We have to stop once so she can throw up. I feel sorry for her, I really do. But I’m not sorry that the slow pace means I get to spend more time with Katniss. We don’t talk much, and taking Madge home is far from romantic. But I don’t care.

She kissed me. She _kissed_ me. Katniss Everdeen actually leaned forward, she definitely did, and she kissed me. I know she’s drunk, but she’s not _that_ drunk. Or is she? Is she going to regret this in the morning? Does she already regret it? Is that why she's so quiet?

We finally make it to the mayor’s house. There is a light on, and I know that the mayor is up, waiting for his daughter to come home. Katniss knocks on the door, she doesn’t ring the bell. “I don’t want to disturb her mother,” she mutters under her breath, just before the door opens.

“Mr. Undersee,” she says.

“Katniss.” His eyes drift over to me, and he can’t hide the look of surprise on his face. “Peeta.”

“Mr. Undersee.” I nod to him.

“Hello, Daddy,” Madge says. I can tell she’s trying really hard to pretend as if she’s not drunk. She’s failing miserably. Katniss is actually supporting her at this point to keep her standing upright.

“You’re home early,” he says to his daughter.

“’Twas a boring party. Really, _really_ boring party. Right, Katniss?” Madge slurs as she looks pointedly over at her friend.

Katniss meets my eyes for a split second. We both know that Madge seemed to be having a good time at the party. And as for myself… the party was definitely not boring. Katniss looks back at Mr. Undersee and smiles politely. “Yes, it was a boring party. And I think Madge needs to drink some water and get some sleep.”

I’ve come home in this state a couple of times, too. Both times it earned me a good beating from my mother. I don’t think Mr. Undersee will hit his daughter, though. He looks at her sadly. “Thank you for getting her home safely, Katniss,” he says. “You’re a good friend.”

Katniss’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “Thank you,” she finally says.

“Will you walk Katniss home, Peeta? Make sure she gets home safely, too? It’s not safe for a young woman to walk around alone at night.”

I love you, Mr. Undersee. I really do.

“I’ll be fine, Mr. Undersee,” Katniss says stiffly.

“Please, Katniss,” Mr. Undersee says.

She sighs. “Okay. Goodnight, Mr. Undersee.”

“Goodnight, Katniss. Peeta.”

Mr. Undersee closes the door and locks it behind him, leaving the two of us standing outside in the dark, alone. “I’ll be fine,” she says. “You don’t have to follow me home.”

“Mr. Undersee is right, you know. It can be dangerous. There are lots of drunk men around tonight.”

She snorts. “Let them try. I know how to kick them where it hurts the most.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I’m still taking you home, though.”

She follows me, reluctantly. We walk side by side, close, but not touching. The sky is clear above us. As usual, there is no electricity tonight, so the street lights are dark. The only light is from the moon, which is nearly full, and the stars. We are the first to walk on this road since the snowfall earlier tonight. The snow is creaking under our boots.

What can I say or do to make her want to see me again? Now that this night is over, I don't know what is going to happen. She could easily go back to ignoring me again. But she _kissed_ me? What did she mean by that?

Neither of us says a single word as we walk to the Seam. It seems even darker here than in Town. The streets are narrower, the houses covered in coal dust. She stops outside a small house, which looks exactly the same as all other houses in the Seam.

“This is where I live,” she says, her voice low.

I can see a faint light through the window. An oil lamp. Is her mother sitting up, waiting for her daughter?

“Katniss, I…” There is so much I want to say. But something about Katniss makes it impossible to find the right words. She’s always had this effect on me. She shifts uncomfortably, sending stolen glances in my direction before her eyes flicker away again. I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. “I had a really good time tonight.”

She looks up at me. Her eyes are black in the moonlight. She doesn’t say anything.

I wait for her to answer, but all she does is stare at me with her lips slightly parted. “I just have to say this,” I finally blurt out. “Because this might be my only chance. Tomorrow, you might decide that it was all a mistake, and never talk to me again.” She furrows her brow. “Will you go out with me? I mean, uh, we could do something together. Meet somewhere.”

“Where?” she asks, her voice neutral.

That's not a no. But shit! There’s nowhere to go. Not in this dump of a district, not in winter. “I don’t know,” I answer lamely. Where do guys meet girls they are interested in? I have no idea. I can’t take Katniss home. My mother would have a fit. That’s the last thing I want. “We could take a walk, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Her voice is only a whisper.

“Are you going to just ignore me tomorrow?” I ask desperately.

“Maybe.” But there is a twinkle in her eyes as she says it, and then she smiles. She _smiles_.

My face breaks into a huge grin. I probably grin like a fool. But I can’t help it.

“I have to go inside. My mother is probably waiting up for me.”

“Okay.” I’m still grinning. “Can I come by your house tomorrow afternoon? After I get off work at the bakery. Will you allow it?”

She looks down. It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, but I think she’s blushing. “Yes. I’ll allow it.”

I lean forward, quickly, before I lose my nerve, and kiss her cheek. Her cheek is cold and so soft. She exhales softly, and for a second, I can feel her breath against my own cheek. She smells faintly of flowers and soap.

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

I walk home, but I don’t feel the cold of the longest night of the year at all.

 

**_Katniss_ **

I close the door behind me silently. Prim is asleep, and I don’t want to wake her. I’m surprised to see my mother sitting in the rocking chair by the fireplace, though. Knitting in the light from the oil lamp.

She looks up and smiles. “Katniss. You’re home already?” Already? I look up at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 1 AM. I’ve never been out this late in my entire life. “Did you have a good time?”

I consider her question. I think about all the drunk people. Gale’s jealousy. The singing.  Madge getting sick. People looking at me. “Yes.”

“Was that Gale who followed you home? It sounded like a man’s voice.”

I look down. “No, it was Peeta.”

She furrows her brow. “Peeta?”

“Peeta Mellark? The baker’s youngest son?”

For a second, she can’t hide her surprise. Then she smiles. “Oh. That’s _unexpected_.”

“Yeah.” It was unexpected for me, too. How did we get from relative silence to kissing in a dark corner? To Peeta following me home? Not to mention me agreeing that he can come here tomorrow afternoon.

“I used to know his father. He’s a good man.”

I shift uneasily. I don’t really want to have this conversation. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

“Goodnight, mother.”

My mother gets up from her chair. Pretending as if it were a mere coincidence that she was sitting up to 1 AM, and that she was planning to go to bed now anyway. Pretending that she wasn’t waiting up for me. I guess a lot of parents do that, at least that’s the impression I got back in school. But I never expected my mother to suddenly act like all other parents.

Even though it was awkward, my mother hearing Peeta and all, I still sort of appreciate it. I think.

I quickly take off my dress and stockings, and put on my nightdress.

It’s confusing, I can’t quite make sense of it all. Maybe I did get drunker on that vile liquor than I’d thought? Perhaps that explains why I just kept talking to Peeta? Maybe it would even explain the kiss. But even if I did feel the effect of the white liquor at the party, my head cleared on the walk home. I don’t feel drunk at all now. And still, I agreed to meet him again. When he smiled, just before he left, I think my heart actually beat faster.

What does it all mean?

In our bed, Prim is snoring slightly. I slip under the covers, shivering. Thankfully, the bed is nice and warm. My sister shifts closer to me, she must feel that I’m here even though she’s asleep.

I close my eyes. But I still see his face behind my eyelids. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Midwinter Night’s Dream was only intended to be a one shot for Prompts in Panem… but of course, I started wondering what would happen next. So I wrote it. There will probably be around five chapters in total. 
> 
> I’ve changed the rating to Explicit – because let’s face it, we all know where this story is heading, right? ;) This chapter isn't smutty, though. 
> 
> Thank you to my lovely ladies Lbug84 for betaing and Chelzie for prereading! Love you!
> 
> Lbug84 updated her Katnick/Everlark fic The Generosity of the Capitol yesterday – check it out if you love Katnick (I know I do!) and love triangles (again, I do! At least fictional ones lol). I'll update The miner's wife soon, too, hopefully this weekend.

**_Katniss_ **

I don’t think I’ve been to the woods this late on a Sunday morning before. It’s nearly midday. The snow crunches underneath my boots. I’m wearing several layers of wool, so the only place I really feel the cold is on my face. I pull my hat down over my ears and forehead, and breathe inside my shawl.

When I woke this morning, Prim was already up, which is unusual. I always wake first. But then again I’ve never been out after midnight before, drinking white liquor and being escorted home by a boy.

My mother didn’t mention anything about last night. Over breakfast, which consisted of one thin slice of stale bread each, Prim asked me if I had a good time at the dance. I muttered “yes” without looking in my mother’s direction and quickly excused myself. I escaped to the woods as soon as I could, before anyone could ask me more questions that I didn’t know how to answer.

I’m past the fence now. I try to walk on bare patches whenever I can, but it’s impossible not to leave tracks in winter - evidence of activity beyond the fence. The only reason Gale and I get away with coming out here is that the Peacekeepers let us. In fact, they are among our best customers, because they have more money to spend than most. We’d be all too easy to catch if the Peacekeepers really wanted to, especially in winter.

It snowed last night, and even though I can faintly see my tracks from earlier this week, Gale’s fresh ones stand out more. I hoped Gale would be too hungover from last night to come out here today, but I guess I should’ve known better. He’s been to lots of parties before, and he always goes hunting with me on Sunday morning. Why would today be any different? Because I saw him with Madge? Because I kissed Peeta?

I follow Gale’s tracks to the clearing by the stream where we always meet. I know that even if he’s not here, he'll be close by, setting snares or hunting squirrels. I've just passed through the tree line when I spot him. He’s in the clearing, waiting for me. His bow is hanging over his shoulder.

“Hi, Katniss.”

So we’re back to Katniss now instead of Catnip. That’s a relief, at least.

“Good morning, Gale.”

“It’s not really morning anymore, is it?” He looks up at the sky. “Are you hungover?”

I narrow my eyes. “No. I just slept in." Which I have never done before. And he knows it.

“Sure you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, suddenly angry. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, with hard, gray eyes and a smirk on his face.

“It means that I heard Mellark walked you home last night.”

“What?!” People are talking already?

He crosses his arms over his chest and actually laughs. “You haven’t learned by now that there’s _always_ someone watching you in the Seam?”

I scowl at him. I rock back and forth a few times. Standing still out here is making my toes cold. “Well, then those ‘eyes’ also should have seen Peeta _leaving_ the Seam a few minutes later. Right?”

“Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t.”

I roll my eyes. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

He leans closer to me. I fight the urge to take a step back. “Be careful, Katniss. Mellark is a typical Town boy. Once he gets what he wants…”

I laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you. Isn’t that exactly what you're doing with Madge?”

“No," he speaks sternly. "Madge and I know exactly where we stand.” _Do they?_ I wonder. I’m not so sure about that. “She’s just looking for some excitement. I can give her that. It’s different for you, though. You’re vulnerable where Madge is not. You know what Town boys do to Seam girls, right? They use them until they get tired of them, and then they leave and marry some nice Town girl, making lots of blonde, well-fed babies." I scowl, but that doesn’t deter him. "And when they leave, they take your reputation and good name with them.”

I have to fight the urge to slap him. “Well, thank you for your concern,” I spit.

"I've seen it happen before," he defends.

So have I, but I’ll never admit it to him. This isn't why we're here anyway. Prey is scarce now in winter, and we work better as a team. If we get a deer - my stomach growls just thinking about it - it could feed both of our families for weeks. “Let’s hunt. And I don't want to hear another word about Peeta or Madge.”

“Okay.” He nods, his lips tight.

Gale and I move together through the woods, almost without a sound. We don't speak; we only communicate using our eyes and hand signals, which is a relief. As we weave through the trees, I can’t help but wonder what time Peeta gets out of work on Sundays. We really should have agreed on a specific time to meet. I know the bakery is open today, but I don’t know what their hours are. It's not like I've ever actually purchased anything from the bakery. I'm just there to trade, and when I arrive, I go to the back door and deal directly with Mr. Mellark.

“Katniss!” Gale’s angry voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Damn it!”

I see the deer disappear between the trees. I wasn't paying attention, I was lost in thought.

“We’ll find another,” I mutter. But I know we won’t. Gale’s eyes are dark as he mutters some curse words under his breath. We keep walking, our stomachs growling, and I force myself to think about something, _anything_ , other than Peeta Mellark.

**_Peeta_ **

I wonder if my mother knows that I was with Katniss last night, because she’s been in a foul mood all day. I might just be paranoid. Her mood could be sour because Rye is obviously hungover. He's in the back, doing my usual job of icing cakes and cookies, and I’m helping Mother with the customers out front. I love chatting with the customers, so don't mind it, even though it’s tiring to work with Mother all day.

I run back and forth, keeping the front cases stocked with sweets and breads. I try to ignore Rye, who asks me questions about Katniss at every opportunity. I don’t answer him, but that doesn’t deter him.

“You _kissed_ her! The ice queen!”

“Was she a good kisser?”

“Did you fuck her?”

The look I send him when he asks that last question must have told him that he’s gone too far, because the next time I go to the back to get more bread, he's toned it down.

“Are you going to see her again?”

This time, I actually answer. “I’m going to see her after work.”

His eyes widen. “She _agreed_ to that?”

“Yes.”

“And what about Hawthorne?”

I shrug. “What _about_ him? You saw him making out with Madge yesterday, right? Anyway, Katniss says they’re not together.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Rye whispers, because we can hear Mother’s steps in the hallway. “So Mother doesn’t find out.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back gratefully. Rye may be an asshole sometimes, but he’s not all bad.

“I’m proud of you,” he says with a grin, patting my back. “My little brother, getting laid at last.” I scowl at him, but quickly look down when Mother comes, looking at us suspiciously.

**Katniss**

We’ve just crossed the fence. Gale’s barely looking at me. He’s still mad that I lost the deer. I’m still mad at myself, too, to be honest. We only shot three squirrels, plus one rabbit that was caught in a snare. When we divvied up the prey, Gale asked for the squirrels, saying Hazelle wanted to make squirrel stew. That may very well be the truth, but it could also be because he knows that Mr. Mellark really likes squirrels. Is he trying to keep me from going to the bakery? I didn’t want to start another fight though, so I just took the rabbit.

When we reach the junction between the road to the Seam and the road to Town, he stops when he sees that I’m heading in the direction of Town. “Where are you going?”

“Mr. Undersee likes rabbit,” I say. “Maybe he wants to buy it. Besides, I want to check on Madge. She was pretty wasted last night.”

I try to keep my voice innocent, but I do want him to hear the underlying accusation. Madge _was_ really drunk, and he still made out with her. Although, remembering the scene at the party last night, they were hardly the only ones.

Gale shrugs his shoulder. “Okay,” he pauses, looking down at the squirrels hanging from his belt. “See you next Sunday?” He's never asked for confirmation before. We _always_ meet on Sundays.

“Yeah. See you next Sunday.”

I don’t think he means for me to hear his exhale of relief.

I’m surprised when it’s Mrs. Undersee who answers the doorbell. She must be having a good day. She suffers from terrible headaches, and it’s always unpredictable whether or not she’ll have to stay in bed all day. “Katniss! How nice to see you. Please come inside.” She’s very pale, her skin almost grayish. She’s the same age as my mother. They used to be in the same class, but Mrs. Undersee looks at least a decade older.

“Thank you, Mrs. Undersee.”

As I take my boots off, Mr. Undersee comes into the hallway, too. “Katniss, there you are. You’re later than usual today, I was starting to worry.”

I can’t help but blush. “Oh, nothing to worry about, Mr. Undersee. It was pretty dead out there today, so we stayed out longer.” I open the game bag to show him. “Are you interested in a rabbit?”

“Always,” he says. He rummages through his wallet. “It looks like a big one. More like four coins instead of three.”

I bite my lip. It is a pretty big rabbit, that’s true, but the meat on old rabbits is far from tender, and I know that’s what Mr. Undersee prefers. Is he trying to give me extra money out of charity? I hesitate for a second before accepting.

We make our trade, and Mrs. Undersee disappears into the kitchen, announcing that she'll make a rabbit stew. I tuck the coins into my jacket pocket and turn back towards Mr. Undersee.

“Is Madge at home?”

“She’s upstairs,” he says. “She’s not feeling very well.”

“Oh.” I’m not really surprised.

“Thank you again for bringing her home last night,” he says.

“No problem.”

“If you want, you can go upstairs and try to get her out of bed.”

“But isn’t she feeling sick?”

“Yes, but it’s her own damn fault that she is,” he says, his smile almost devilish now.

I decide that I have time for a quick visit before I have to go home to meet Peeta. I walk upstairs and knock on her bedroom door. “Go away!” I hear Madge’s voice through the door, half muffled.

“It’s Katniss.”

I hear some muffled sounds that I can’t quite interpret, and then her voice again. “Oh, good! I thought it was Dad again.”

I take that as permission to enter. Her father didn’t exaggerate, she really does look terrible. She’s dressed in an old t-shirt and cozy pants. She’s lying on her bed on top of a throw, with a bucket standing on the floor near her head. Her skin is almost as pale as her mother’s. “How are you feeling?” I sit down on her bed next to her.

She groans. “What does it look like?” She sits up. “Mother even gave me some of her Capitol pills. Not morphling,” she says hastily when she sees me widening my eyes in shock, “But some of the others. For the days when her headaches are milder.” She rubs her temple. “The pills don’t fucking work, though. It still feels like someone hit me in the head with a sledgehammer.”

I laugh. “You drank way too much white liquor last night.”

She snorts. “You don’t say?” She takes a few sips of water from the glass on her night stand. “It’s really bad timing. I’ve never come home from a party in this state before, and of course, it had to happen right before New Year’s.”

I furrow my brow. “What’s so special about New Year’s?”

“I was planning to have a party,” she explains. “My parents are invited to Cray’s, so I’ll have the house to myself – if my mother’s well enough to go, of course, which is always unpredictable. I was going to invite you and a few other people. You know, keep it small in case my parents have to cancel at short notice and stay at home. But I don’t know if Dad will allow it now after last night.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if he says no,” I admit.

“Did he seem mad at me?”

“No, not really. But he did say that being sick is _your_ _own_ _damn_ _fault_ ,” I mimic.

She laughs. “Yeah, he's right. Don't tell him that, though.” She closes her eyes. “Oh, it hurts when I laugh. Please don’t make me laugh.”

“I won’t make you laugh, I swear. Although it’s going to be hard, me being such a jokester and all.”

She laughs. “Damn it, Katniss!” She winces and lies down again. “It was a great party, wasn’t it? I told you it would be fun.”

“Yes, it was.”

“So, Katniss…” She studies my face closely. “I have to admit that my memories of last night are hazy, but I _think_ I distinctly remember that you and Peeta Mellark walked me home.”

“He held your hair when you threw up on the street,” I answer dryly.

“Really? He did?” Her eyes widen in shock.

“No.”

“Oh, damn you, Katniss,” she groans.

“You did throw up on the street though.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you most definitely did.”

She sighs. “But Peeta _did_ walk us home, right?” Wow, she must have been even drunker than I realized if she’s not even sure about that.

“Yeah, he did.” I think about last night, about the way he looked at me as we said goodbye, and I realize that my face is burning. Shit.

Madge is staring at me with narrowed eyes for a second, then she grins. “Katniss?” she sing-songs.

I get up from the bed, and avoid meeting her eyes. “I, uh… I really need to go.”

“All of a sudden?” she asks with a smile that is… knowing? Dammit. Is she lying about not remembering anything?

“Peeta is coming to see me after he gets out of work,” I admit.

“He is?!” she squeals, sitting up quickly. “Ow,” she says, rubbing her forehead. She must have sat up too quickly. “Well, you’d better get home then. Right now.” She looks at the clock on her night stand. “The bakery closes in 15 minutes.”

“Really?” I can’t hide the panic in my voice.

Madge’s smile widens. “Oh, wow. You’re definitely going to tell me the rest of this story.” She giggles. “But later! Go! You don’t want to be late.”

I don’t think I’ve ever walked home from Town more quickly.

**Peeta**

It’s been a busy day. The last customer just left, but we need to close up the bakery, which easily takes an hour, including cleaning and counting the money in the register. I sigh. It feels like I’ll never get out of here. Rye and I are in the front, and Mother and Father are in the back.

“I’ll close up the shop,” Rye says, his voice low so that Mother doesn’t hear us.

I look skeptically at him. He looks like shit. “Are you sure? Your skin is actually green.”

“No, it’s not,” he huffs.

“Gray, then.”

He groans. “I hate that we’re open on Sundays. It really messes up my social life. I bet being open on Sundays was Mother’s idea, and that she came up with it to keep her sons from partying and hooking up with girls.”

“You still do both,” I point out.

“Yeah, and the price I have to pay is steep,” he says dramatically, and I laugh. “I mean it, though. Go. I can tell you’re _dying_ to see the lovely Katniss Everdeen again.” He cocks his head, smiling knowingly, and I blush. “Wow, you’ve got it bad, Peeta.”

“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath, my blush deepening.

I sneak upstairs, making sure to avoid the steps that creak. I quickly change clothes and sneak downstairs again.

 “Where are you going?” Uh-oh. Busted. Mother looks down at me as I’m lacing up my winter boots.

“I’m going to Alan’s.” I smile innocently. I can’t tell Mother I’m going to see a Seam girl, least of all _Katniss_. I know my dad used to date her mother. Actually, it was more than just dating - she's the love of his life, and he was devastated when she broke up with him to marry Katniss’s father. Mother is who Father settled for, and _everyone_ knows it.

She huffs and leaves the room. As I’m about to open the door, Rye gives me a brown paper bag. “Take this,” he whispers. “Hurry.”

I don’t question him, but accept his offering, murmur a “thank you”, and leave.

I don’t open the paper bag until I’m a few blocks away. There are cheese buns in here, and I can feel through the paper that they are still warm. They won't be by the time I get to the Seam, though. I suggested to Katniss that we could go for a walk, but it’s freezing cold outside.

Katniss's little sister, Prim, answers the door when I arrive. Her blue eyes widen in surprise. “Hello.”

“Hi, Prim. Is Katniss at home?”

“Katniss?” I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.

Mrs. Everdeen appears behind Prim. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me. “Hello, Peeta,” she says with a smile. “How nice to see you. Why don’t you come inside?”

Prim gives her mother a weird look. I step inside and remove my coat.

“Katniss! You’ve got a visitor,” Prim announces as Mrs. Everdeen hangs my coat on a nearby hook.

I look around the house. It’s small and much colder than mine. I know, of course, that the bakery’s oven heats up the whole house, but it's not that much warmer in here than it is outside.

Mrs. Everdeen gestures for me to move into the living area.  A few embers glow in the old fireplace, but there’s no fire. The furniture is sparse and worn. The green rug on the floor is faded. There are only two photos up on the wall – one of Mr. Everdeen, and one of Katniss and Prim when they were very young. Prim is only a toddler, and Katniss must be around six or seven. Both of her front teeth are missing as she smiles to the camera, and her hair is in two braids instead of one.

Impulsively, I hold out the paper bag, grateful that Rye had the foresight to give it to me. “I brought you this, Mrs. Everdeen.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

I shrug. “It’s leftovers from today,” I say casually, knowing that the cheese buns have cooled off and how deep Seam pride runs. She doesn’t need to know that leftovers are precious to us, too. We may have more money than Seam families, but we still live in 12, and I’ve gone to bed hungry, too.

A door swings open and Katniss steps out from behind it. Her cheeks are flushed, and it looks like she’s a bit breathless. She’s wearing a faded pair of jeans and a thick orange sweater. Her hair is in an elaborate braid on one side of her head. “Hi, Peeta.” There’s an awkward silence.

Prim looks between us, a look of understanding on her face.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to go for a walk,” I say. “But the wind has just picked up.”

"I know. I just got in from outside a little while ago." She rubs her hands together to generate warmth. I can tell that a walk would be a terrible idea. Panic courses through me. _Now what?_

“Why don’t we eat the cheese buns that Peeta was kind enough to bring us and have a cup of tea?” Katniss’s mother suggests.

It’s not quite what I had in mind, having tea and cheese buns with Katniss, her sister and her mother, but I can’t really think of any other alternatives, so I agree. We sit around the kitchen table. It’s easy to keep a conversation going. Prim is a fun and clever girl. She tells me that she’s 14, and we talk about her teachers at school, who are the same ones that Katniss and I had. Talking to Mrs. Everdeen is also surprisingly easy. I know she had a breakdown after her husband passed away, and that she’s been suffering from depression ever since. But she seems to be doing well now.

“How are your parents, Peeta?” Mrs. Everdeen asks.

“They’re good,” I say. “You know, busy.”

“Yes, running a bakery is a lot of work.”

“It is,” I agree.

“I knew your father,” she says. “A long time ago.”

I look up at her. I’m surprised she’s brought it up. “I know. He told me.”

There’s a long, awkward silence. Mrs. Everdeen empties her cup of tea. “Primrose, I need some help with sorting dried herbs upstairs. Will you please give me a hand?”

"We don't keep herbs up-"

"Now, Prim."

It’s blatantly obvious that she wants to give Katniss and me a chance to spend some time alone. Katniss stares at the table, blushing deeply. Prim looks confused, but agrees.

And then we're alone. I have no idea what to say to her.

It’s clear that Katniss is not going to speak first. She keeps her eyes fixed on the table, and plays nervously with the end of her braid with one hand. I decide to just be honest. It’s not as if I have anything to lose. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again,” I admit, my voice low. “I was afraid that you were going to wake up this morning and regret everything.”

"Everything?"

"The walk home… the kiss.”

She looks up at me. Her eyes are almost black. She shakes her head slowly.

**_Katniss_ **

“I didn’t. I mean, I don’t… I don’t regret it.” His face lights up at my words.

“Really?”

I blush. “Really,” I mumble. His lips, the sweet smell of his warm skin, feeling his body against mine. I take a shaky intake of breath at the memory. He’s staring at me with slightly parted lips, and I’m shocked at the surge of _something_ that courses through my body. I nervously play with my braid, mostly because I’m not quite sure what else to say.

“I don’t regret it, either,” he says, a smile on his lips now. “But I guess that’s pretty obvious, right?”

“Yes,” I admit. It’s not a surprise, after what he told me last night. “You said that you have liked me for a long time?”

“I have.”

“Is that why you threw me the bread?” My voice cracks slightly.

"I would’ve done that anyway,” he says. “Because you really needed it. But I’m really sorry that I didn’t do more. I didn't even…” His voice trails off, and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Don’t be. That bread meant more to me than you can possibly imagine.”

“It did?” he asks, his voice hopeful. I nod. He looks relieved. “Anyway, I liked you long before that.”

“I didn’t think that way about you,” I say, almost defensively. “I mean, I _noticed_ you. Because of the bread, and because I owed you. But I didn’t watch you or anything.” But I still kissed him. And I still said he could come here today. And here we are, sitting in my kitchen, with a full stomach even though it’s December. “That's not what I meant. It's just that I don’t know you.”

“That’s true,” he says. “But we can do something about that.” He smiles.

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

“We can get to know each other. That’s what friends do, right?”

Friends? He wants to be friends? Friends who kiss? “Where do you suggest we start?”

“Well, I don’t know. Um, what’s your favorite color?”

We just talked about an event that changed my life, and that clearly meant a lot to him, too – and now he wants to talk about _colors_? “That’s not really important information, is it?”

“It is to me.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and he looks at me, still with a small smile on his face.

“It’s green. Like the forest.”

He nods. “Mine is orange.”

“Orange?”

The surprise that _orange_ is someone’s favorite color must show in my face, because he quickly explains. “Yes, but soft. Like the sunset. Like…” He gestures towards me. “Like your sweater.”

I had no idea I’d chosen to wear something in his favorite color. I don’t even really like orange, but the sweater used to be my mother’s, from her Merchant days. It’s not as if I have that much to choose from, but when Peeta suddenly showed up and I still hadn’t dressed because I hadn’t been able to decide what to wear, I just grabbed the first thing I could find. “You give colors a lot of thought.”

“I guess that’s because I like to paint,” he says.

“You do?” I’m surprised that Peeta Mellark, wrestler and one of the most popular boys in school, likes to _paint_. But I sort of like it. “What do you paint?”

He shrugs. "Anything, really. Mostly things I have seen. Nature, people. Do you have any hobbies?”

“I like to hunt.”

“What do you like about it?”

No one has ever asked me that question before; they’ve just taken my hunting for granted. But it doesn’t seem like Peeta takes anything for granted. I have to consider his question before I answer. “I like the freedom,” I finally say. “There are no constraints, no one is watching me. It’s just me, my bow, and the woods.” And Gale, although I don’t say it.

“It sounds great. And not like working at the bakery at all. I can assure you that my mother is watching me _all_ the time, there’s no freedom whatsoever.” He rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but laugh. He laughs, too. I wonder if Mrs. Mellark knows where her son is now. Probably not.

“Have you ever been outside the fence?”

“No.”

“I guess most Town people haven’t.”

“Most people in _12_ haven’t,” he corrects me. He’s right. The fence was electrified for so many years, more than a generation, that people forgot how to feed themselves. They forgot how to hunt and forage. Only a few Seam families started going back to the woods when the Capitol found out they had better things to do with their electricity than to keep us captive in 12. What’s the point, anyway – where would we go? There is nothing outside of 12 but an endless forest.

“Do you want to go?” The question just slips out.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

He looks startled. Almost as startled as I am myself. What have I gotten myself into? We only spoke for the first time yesterday, and now I’ve asked him to go to the forest with me? How can I really be sure that I can trust him? Still, I keep talking.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Perfect. Bakery's closed. What time do you want to go?”

I consider his question. “How about I come to the bakery after my trading round tomorrow? I can go hunting early in the morning, and come back for you.”

His face breaks into a big smile. “I’d love that. Thank you, Katniss.”

I smile, too. I can’t help it. There’s a long silence, but this time, it’s not awkward.

**Peeta**

I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here. I’ve lost track of time, and I couldn’t care less. All the cheese buns are gone, and I just said no to a third cup of tea. Being alone with her was a bit awkward at first, because I didn’t quite know what to talk about. I could tell she found my question about her favorite color weird, and maybe it was. But since then, Katniss has relaxed a lot, and now she seems to be enjoying herself as much as I am. She smiles, chuckles at my jokes, and she’s definitely looking at me. A lot.

“Really? He did that?” To my amazement, Katniss laughs - a free, happy laughter. I’ve hardly ever heard her laugh like that before, aside from a few times when I overheard her talk with Gale in the school yard.

“Yes.” I widen my eyes for dramatic effect. I’m telling her the story of how Rye jumped out of our bedroom window so Mother wouldn’t find out that he was going to a party. It was in winter, so he jumped into a large pile of snow. “Unfortunately, he’d forgotten the key to the door, and when he came home at three in the morning, I slept so deeply that I didn’t hear the snowballs he threw at the window to wake me up. But Mother did.”

“Ouch,” she grimaces. I’m opening my mouth to continue the story when I’m interrupted by an insistent knock on the door. Katniss sighs and gets up from her chair. “At this hour it can only be someone who’s sick,” she explains. The house is tiny, so I hear her open the door and say hello.

“It’s Mother,” I hear a breathless voice say. “The baby is coming!”

Without a word Katniss runs upstairs, quickly getting her mother. I go to the kitchen door, and see Mrs. Everdeen and Prim run downstairs. There’s a Seam girl at the door who can’t be more than 10 or 11. Her winter coat is worn and too thin for this weather.

“What did your mama say when she sent you, Lara?” Mrs. Everdeen asks the girl. 

“To come quick.”

Mrs. Everdeen nods, and turns to Prim. “It’s Mrs. Slate’s sixth child. If she says to come quick, then the baby will probably be here soon.”

“Can I go with you, Mother? Please?” Prim says.

Mrs. Everdeen furrows her brow. “You have school tomorrow, Prim, and it’s already eight. If this takes longer than we think…”

“If labor drags out I’ll just come home, okay? Please let me go, I really want to learn.”

To my surprise, Mrs. Everdeen glances over at me before she answers. “Okay, you can come. But you can’t stay long. Go get the midwifery kit, please. Hurry.” She turns to Katniss. “I’ll ask Mr. Slate or one of their neighbors to bring Prim home in a couple of hours at the latest if I can’t come home with her myself." She lowers her voice, but makes sure to speak loud enough that I can hear. "It’s not appropriate for a boy to be alone in the house with you at night. It’s getting late.” Katniss blushes.

“I’ll go home now, Mrs. Everdeen,” I say. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

She smiles. “It was very nice to meet you, Peeta. Please come visit us again. I hope it doesn’t appear as if I’m throwing you out,” she says apologetically.

“Not at all, Mrs. Everdeen,” I answer.

Prim returns with a canvas bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go."

They disappear into the winter night, and we’re alone. Really alone.

Katniss’s cheeks are still burning. “Does that happen a lot?”

“People coming to our door when you least expect them? Yes.” Her eyes find the floor. “I’m sorry if she, uh…” Her voice trails off.

“No, it’s okay,” I laugh. “If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, you’d better believe I’d be guarding her, too.” She takes a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widen in surprise. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “I mean it,” I say. My face feels so warm, I’m sure I’m blushing as deeply as she is. “I mean, the guarding part was a joke, of course, but I really do think that you’re beautiful.”

Somehow, I’ve leaned closer to her. My hands find her slender waist, and she doesn’t resist. Instead, she leans into me, and her hands wrap around my neck. Last night, it was all so new and surprising. This time, I know exactly how her lips feel against mine. I know the softness of her body, the sweet scent of her skin. But I don’t know what she tastes like, not really. The kiss last night was so short. I tilt my head, running my tongue against the seam of her lips, encouraging her to part them. She stiffens briefly before she tentatively allows my tongue to enter her mouth. Something about the way she moves, hesitatingly and a bit clumsily, makes me wonder if she’s ever done this before.

She makes a sighing sound into my mouth; it’s almost a moan, and it makes me hard almost instantly. I shift uncomfortably, ending the kiss so I can separate our bodies ever so slightly. I hope she didn’t have time to notice. Something tells me it’s a bit too soon for that. I open my eyes to find her staring up at me, her pupils huge. Her hands are still around my neck, playing with my hair. She doesn’t move away.

I don’t really want to leave, but I promised Mrs. Everdeen I’d go home soon. Besides, I need to hide my erection from Katniss. I don’t think there’s any chance it will go away while I’m in her presence except, well… and that’s definitely out of the question.

“I think I need to go home now,” I say, my voice low and husky. I have to clear my throat before I continue. “We promised your mother.”

“Yes. We did.” She nods. “Do you still want to go to the woods tomorrow?” She looks nervous, as if she’s expecting me to have changed my mind.

“I’d love to.” My jacket is right behind me. If I turn around to get it, I can use it to hide the state of my body when I turn back to her. I reluctantly let go of her, get my coat and put it on. “I had a really good time tonight,” I tell her when I turn around, my body now hidden by the coat.

“Me too,” she says. Her index finger moves up to her lips, touching her lower lip almost wonderingly. I have to force myself to tear my eyes away from her swollen lips. My cock is throbbing. “So I’ll come by the bakery tomorrow? How do I get hold of you without…” her voice trails off. Without my mother finding out.

“You can throw a snowball at my window?” I suggest. “I promise I won’t be asleep this time.”

She smiles. “Okay. Which room is yours?”

“Go to the back of the house. It’s the window to the left, on the second floor.”

“Okay.”

I put on my shoes and hat. “Goodnight, Katniss. I had a really good time tonight.”

“I did, too. Goodnight.”

This time, the kiss goodbye isn’t just on her cheek, and she parts her lips for me almost immediately.

 

**Katniss**

I’m making arrows in front of the fireplace when Prim and Mother come home.

“How did it go?” I ask Mother when she sits down on the sofa. Prim’s in the kitchen, making tea.

“It went well,” she says. “The birth was fast and easy; I didn’t really have to do anything but remind her to breathe and make sure she didn’t tear.”

I feel slightly sick. I don’t know how Mother and Prim can do this, and even actually _like_ it. “Boy or girl?” I ask. Not because I’m actually all that interested, but because hopefully, she’ll stop talking about tearing _down there_.

“Girl.” She smiles. “A little girl with lots of black hair, just like you had.”

“She was _so_ cute,” Prim shouts from the kitchen. I roll my eyes. Newborns are wrinkly and ugly. I don’t know how Prim can find them _cute_. Besides, this is child number six in the Slate family. How is Mr. Slate going to feed eight mouths on one salary?

“Did you and Peeta have a good time?”

I bite my lip, remembering the kiss. “Yes. He went home just after you left,” I say quickly.

“I hope you don’t think that I don’t trust you, Katniss,” she says.

I shake my head. I understand. Seam girls don’t really have much aside from their reputation.

“I heard something from Mrs. Slate’s sister, just as I was about to leave,” Mother says in a low voice. “She was at the Midwinter party yesterday, too.” I pale. This doesn’t sound good. There are so many things I don’t want Mother to know about – that I drank liquor, that Madge was sick, that I kissed Peeta, that…  “She said that you sang at the party.”

I curse myself for losing control and singing in public. How could I be so stupid? I stare into the still barely glowing embers instead of looking at her. “Yes, I did.”

“Why did you sing?” she asks, her voice gentle. “I haven’t heard you sing since your father passed away.”

“I don’t really know why I did it, I just… did. A woman started singing, ‘ _Blond is the color_.’ Do you remember that song? Dad used to sing it.”

“I remember,” she whispers.

“Everyone was singing along, and I closed my eyes and started singing, too. And then…” My voice trails off.

“That’s what Mrs. Slate’s sister said, too. That everyone was singing, but then it was as if they heard the voice of an angel, and everyone stopped to listen.”

I’m not quite sure what an angel is, but I get the general picture. “I wish I hadn’t sung,” I confess. “I didn’t want anyone to look at me. It’s just that I hadn’t heard the song in so long, and it reminded me of Dad, and then it just happened. I didn’t mean to.”

“Your voice is a gift,” she says. “You have your father’s voice. Is that why you haven’t sung since he died?”

“I miss him so much.” My voice breaks. I have to take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I’m not going to cry in front of Mother.

“I miss him too. He would’ve been so proud of you.” She reaches forward, tucking a lock of hair that’s escaped from my braid behind my ear. “I can’t believe that our daughter is now a grown-up.”

I’ve been a grown-up for a long time. Too long, actually. Ever since Mother got depressed. Even though she was physically present, she still left me and Prim to fend for ourselves. Without the bow, and without Gale, all three of us would’ve died. I’ve carried an adult’s responsibility on my shoulders since I was 12. And it’s her fault.

I can’t deal with this conversation right now. “I’m going to bed,” I say. “I need to get an early start tomorrow.” I don’t tell her why.

“Okay, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I go to bed first, before Prim. The bed is cold. I shiver under the covers, curling up into a ball while I wait for the bed to warm up. Mother doesn’t speak much about Dad anymore; I guess it hurts too much. For both of us.  My thoughts are interrupted by Prim, who sneaks into bed. “Mmmm, you’ve warmed up the bed for me,” she whispers. “You should go to bed first more often.”

I feel my whole body relax, knowing my sister is near. “No, Little Duck,” I whisper back. “You’re the heater.”

She just mumbles something unintelligible in return, and I know that she’s falling asleep already. She must be exhausted.

I had hoped that Prim would stay awake a bit longer so we could talk. Perhaps she could get my thoughts away from Dad. But now that I listen to her slow, regular breathing and feel her body helping mine warm up the cold bed, I find myself thinking about Peeta, and the way his blue eyes twinkle when he tells a joke. His calloused and scarred hands as they close around the cup of tea. The heat of his body as he pulls me close.

Was it really just yesterday that we spoke for the first time? I smile into the darkness. Sleep finds me much easier than I thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love, as always. :)
> 
> And I don't seem to be able to get rid of the end notes from the first chapter... Weird. Anyway, please just ignore them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Lbug84 for betaing and Chelzie for prereading! <3

**_Peeta_ **

I’m sitting at my desk, restless and unable to concentrate. I'm working on pencil drawing number five. I sigh in frustration, scrunch it up, and throw it towards the paper bin in the corner, missing completely. It joins the others on the floor. Rye is lying on his bed reading a book and looks up at me with a smirk.

Our apartment above the bakery is small. There are only three bedrooms, and Rye and I are still sharing a room. I thought that when Bannock got married and moved out, Rye or I would get his room. Instead, Father moved in there. Mother blames it on his snoring, but we’re old enough to know that's not the real reason he’s sleeping in there.

Like me, Rye's killing time before getting ready for a date in a few hours. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem like he’s nervous at all.

“What’s up, Peeta?”

“Nothing.”

"You over there drawing porn again?"

I shake my head.

"I told you, you need to see real tits once in a while to keep your skills sharp."

"It's not porn," I grumble. It really isn't this time. "And I see plenty of tits." I frown at myself for lying, but what else am I going to say to my older brother on the subject?

"Do you?" he chuckles. "When's the last time you saw some?" I shrug my shoulders. Rye laughs. "Well, I'll be seeing some tonight. Not the best I've ever seen, but you know. Tits are tits."

I roll my eyes. "You're such a jerk. I wonder what Myrtle has to say about your balls."

 "That they're big and glorious." He grins widely, and I roll my eyes. "So if you’re not drawing porn, what _are_ you drawing ?"

"Nothing," I mutter.

“Nothing, huh?” He puts his book down on the bed. “Does this ‘nothing’ by any chance have anything to do with Katniss Everdeen?”

I barely have time to roll my eyes at him before the sound of a snowball hitting the window thuds through the room. I run over to the window and find Katniss standing outside, looking up. I wave at her as our eyes meet, and I grin like an idiot. She smiles back, looking relieved.

Rye gets up too, and he whistles when he sees who’s there. “Looks like I was right.” He turns to me and winks. “It's a good thing you jerked off in the bathroom when you came home last night-”

“Rye!” I can’t believe he heard me.

"-and again this morning. Don't want to go out there with a loaded gun."

This house is definitely too small. I feel a blush creeping up my neck, but I'm more annoyed than embarrassed.

“So obviously the date yesterday was a good one?”

Date. I haven’t even dared to use that word. I pull on my thick, green wool sweater.

“Yes.”

“So hopefully this date will be even _better_. Can't wait to see what you draw tomorrow.” He smirks. “Where are you two going?”

“None of your damn business.” I grab two paper bags filled with sandwiches and cheese buns that I packed this morning, without Mother knowing, and stuff them into a backpack.

“Yeah, whatever. I want to hear _everything_ about the date when you come home.” Rye’s wiggling eyebrows make it clear just what kind of details he’s most interested in hearing.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

I rush downstairs, throw on my coat and grab my hat and gloves. I yell to my parents that I’m going out, and slip out the door before Mother has the chance to ask where I’m going.

Katniss smiles when she sees me.  “I hope you’ve dressed warmly,” she says. I’m probably not as well-dressed as she is. I’m already starting to feel the cold.

“I’m feeling much warmer already, just looking at you.” She blushes, and I can’t resist giving her a quick kiss. She exhales softly and leans into me, just for a second. Then she quickly releases me and takes a step back, looking over my shoulder. I turn around and see Rye standing in the window, looking down at us with a grin on his face. When he sees me looking at him, he starts making overly dramatic kissing faces. “Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot.” I roll my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” I really don’t want Mother to see us. She’ll find out eventually, but I haven’t quite figured out how to deal with this situation yet.

We exit the Merchant section quickly, but pass by several people before we do. As a Town boy with a Seam girl, we earn curious and judgmental glances. It’s not proper. I’m pretty sure Mother will hear about this soon.

“Have you met Rye?” I ask to pull her attention away from our audience.

Katniss shakes her head. “He was two grades ahead of me in school, he's a Town boy, and he's popular. He’d never talk to anyone like me.”

I clear my throat and she stops in her tracks. "That didn't come out right," she says apologetically.

I shake my head, though I'm not sure what she might've actually meant by that. The age difference? It’s not all that uncommon for girls to hang out with boys who are a few years older than them, but I don’t point it out to her because I don’t want to bring up Gale. The only younger girls Rye would hang out with were the ones he was fucking, so thankfully Katniss wasn’t one of them. The neighborhood difference? I'm a Town boy and I'm interested in her. ...Maybe she doesn't consider me to be _popular_.

“I’ll introduce you, if you want to meet him.”

She hesitates slightly before she answers. “You want me to meet your brother?”

“Yes.” I do. I really do. I’m actually surprised by how much it means to me that Rye meets Katniss. Rye’s an asshole, but no one’s closer to me than he is.

"Sure."

We’re approaching the fence. I haven’t been here in ages, and certainly never in winter. There’s a narrow path in the snow, and I have a feeling it’s being kept open by Katniss and Gale.

I decide to change the subject. Family is awkward, at least when it’s my family we’re talking about. “Did you get anything out there today?”

“Not much, just a few squirrels.” She sighs. “It’s a difficult time of the year.”

A few squirrels won’t do much to feed three people, and she’s too proud to admit that they’re probably starving. I’m glad I brought lunch, though I’ll have to be careful about how I present it.

We follow a path for a while until suddenly behind some trees, the fence appears.

“Is it dangerous?” I ask her nervously.

She shakes her head. “The fence is hardly ever on.”

“I meant, is it dangerous to be in the forest? If you hunt there, aren't there other animals that hunt there, too?” My voice trails off.

"Yes, of course there are." She stops, recognizing the worry in my voice. “We don't have to go, if you don't want to."

I shake my head, not wanting to seem like a pansy and realizing that I probably do. "I only meant-"

"Don't worry, Peeta. I'll protect you," she says with a smirk.

We share a laugh, and I recognize the opening in conversation. "I brought us something to eat," I say, gesturing to my bag. "I don't want to attract animals."

"Oh." The laughter dies on her tongue as she looks at my bag. I’ve noticed the bag slung over her shoulder, and I suspect she’s brought some food, too. "That was... that was very nice of you."

I shrug a shoulder. "It is lunch time."

"True." She studies my face for a moment and then nods her head, as though she's just made a decision. "We should be fine. It's not a far walk."

"To where?"

She doesn't answer me. She tries to hide a smile as she steps closer to the fence, close, but doesn’t touch it. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Shh.” She concentrates, then nods. “The fence is off.”

“How do you know?” I ask her nervously.

“Do you hear anything?”

“No.”

“Exactly. There’s no humming. The electricity is off. Come on.” She finds a place where there is an opening under the fence and slips under it. The opening isn’t large, and she has to touch the fence in order to get through. Once she is on the other side, she gets up. “Come on.” She reaches her gloved hand under the fence, and I take it. I’m much bigger than she is, but I do get through.

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air that somehow feels fresher on this side of the fence.

 

**_Katniss_ **

Peeta straightens his back and takes a few deep breaths as he scans his surroundings. He looks nervous, but I think he tries to hide it. This is the first time I’ve brought anyone out here. The only people I’ve ever shared this with are my father and the Hawthorne boys.

“We need to move away from the fence, just in case the peacekeepers are on patrol.”

As I say the word ‘peacekeeper,’ Peeta looks nervously over his shoulder. “Have you ever been caught?” he asks.

“No,” I say a little too proudly. “The peacekeepers are among my best customers.”

“So then why are you concerned?”

“It’s one thing for them to buy squirrels when I come knocking on their door at night,” I explain. “It’s quite another to turn your back on people breaking the law right in front of your eyes when you are on patrol.”

We disappear into the woods, and soon, we can’t see the fence anymore. I look at Peeta out of the corner of my eye. He’s a bit clumsy, tripping several times, but I guess it’s because he’s not used to being in the woods. Or maybe it’s because he’s too busy staring up at the trees with wide eyes to look down at where he’s placing his feet. It’s a good thing I hunted earlier today, because Peeta is so loud that there’s no point in even trying. He stops under a particularly tall tree and looks up, amazed.

“Look! A squirrel!” He sounds so excited I almost have to laugh.

“Yes.” I grit my teeth as I look up at it. I wish I had my bow. “A fat one, too.” Then another squirrel appears, and they look down at me with their little black eyes. “They’re mocking me,” I mutter.

“They understand you’re not a danger to them without your bow,” he laughs, and gives me a nudge with his elbow.

“Hey!” I nudge him back. He almost loses his balance, but steadies himself by putting his arm around my waist. Then I realize he’s not doing it to regain his balance anymore. Instead, he pushes me playfully, and I lose my balance. I grab a hold of his coat, pulling him with me as I fall. We land in a heap, both of us laughing, with him on top. I try to get up, but he doesn’t let me. He’s too strong and heavy.

I look up at him, and suddenly, something changes. Our laughter fades. His eyes darken. I lick my lips, unable to look away. Somehow, my arms have ended up around his neck, my fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, just below his winter hat.

His cool lips brush against mine and I trace them with my tongue. He opens his mouth in response, and I tilt my head as we deepen the kiss. He presses me closer, and I can feel how hard and muscled his upper body is, even through several layers of thick winter clothing.

Peeta abruptly ends the kiss and shifts his weight awkwardly. He quickly gets up, blushing furiously. He gives me a hand, helping me get up, too. “Um… sorry about that,” he says shyly. We both brush the snow off our clothes.

“No problem.” I’m a bit confused. I don't understand why he’s sorry.

He clears his throat. “So… um, can I see your bow?”

It’s clear he’s just trying to change the subject. I expected him to be curious though, so I left my bow in a hollow tree earlier today, but not in the tree where I usually keep it. That bow is keeping my family alive, and it doesn’t hurt to be on the safe side.

“Sure. Follow me.”

It’s a ten minute walk or so over to the hollow tree. Peeta is so easy to talk to, and our conversation flows freely. A couple of times, our hands brush against each other accidentally. I wonder what it would be like to hold hands with him. I’ve never done that with anyone before.

I force my thoughts over to something else. “Here it is.” I stop in front of an old, hollow tree. There’s no snow here, so there aren’t any tracks leading up to this particular tree. I take the bow out, showing it to him proudly.

His eyes widen. “Wow.” He reaches out his hand to trace the carefully oiled wood.

“Father made it.”

 

**_Peeta_ **

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I don’t know what else to say. What do you say to the girl you might love when she shows you the bow that her long-dead father made? 

She shrugs, but I don’t miss how she swallows. “It was a long time ago.”

With a quick, fluid movement she draws an arrow, and before I know it, the arrow is wedged into the trunk of a tree about thirty yards away. “Wow,” I begin, but I don’t really have time to say anything else until another arrow is wedged into the tree, a few inches above the first one. I stare, wide-eyed, as she shoots three more arrows – the four last ones form a perfect cross around the central first arrow.

Katniss lets her bow sink, a triumphant look on her face.

I just stare at her with my mouth open. Katniss shooting is probably the hottest thing I have _ever_ seen. My hard-on, which was finally starting to deflate after our kiss in the snow, is instantly back.

She walks over to the tree to retrieve the arrows, and I don’t miss the proud bounce in her step. This is her domain. This is how she has survived.

I pick up a few cones from the ground. “Hey, Katniss.” She turns around, having retrieved the last arrow.

I throw the cone up into the air, to the right of where I’m standing, and she doesn’t miss a beat. The arrow shatters the cone. I throw three more cones up in to the air in quick succession, and she hits every single one.

“You’re really good.” I’m in awe.

She shrugs. “I’m alright.” But she has a proud smile on her face. 

“How long did it take to learn to shoot like that?”

“Years. I mostly foraged at first. Berries, edible plants and roots, mushrooms… Oh, and I fished, of course.” She starts retrieving the arrows she just shot, and I follow her, talking as we walk.

Of course? There is nothing ‘of course’ about any of this in my book. “Speaking of food, do you want to have lunch?”

She nods gratefully. I’ve heard her stomach growling several times. “We can go to the shelter to eat,” she says.

“Shelter? What’s that?”

“Gale and I built it,” she explains. “It’s just a wooden room really, and the roof is made of branches and some gray tarpaulin that Gale got in the Hob a few years ago. It’s not much, but it’s useful to have some shelter out here in case of bad weather.”

I try not to picture Katniss and Gale alone in a small shelter out in the woods, but I don’t quite succeed. It helps my cock calm down somewhat, though.

Katniss says it’s not very far. As we walk, I ask her questions about the woods. It’s all completely new to me, and I can’t help but marvel at the things we see on the way. And despite both of us carrying food, I don't notice any animals following us.

“We’re talking,” she explains as she catches me peering through the trees. “Besides, they’d hear you even if we weren’t talking.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

She blushes. “Um… You’re pretty loud.”

“ _Really_?” I feign surprise and hurt, and she looks at me in shock. I laugh. “I’m just kidding, Katniss. I realize I’m not exactly moving soundlessly through the woods. Not the way you are.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. We didn’t come here to hunt, right?”

“Thank you so much for showing me the woods, Katniss,” I say honestly. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She smiles and stops. I stop too. “I love being out here.”

“I can tell.”

We’re standing so close to each other now that the thick, gray cowl she’s wearing is touching my chest. It matches the color of her eyes, but I can see them darken further as her pupils dilate. I can’t look away from her mouth, and her tongue flickers out to lick her lips. She leans up, and now her taste is familiar.

I don’t know how long we kiss. When our lips finally part, she whispers breathlessly. “We're here.”

“Where?” I look around, confused.  Her fingers intertwine with mine.

“Over there.” I furrow my brow, but then I see it. It’s gray and brown, the exact same color as the woods. If she hadn’t shown me, I would literally have to stumble upon it to find it. The shelter is small, square-shaped, and weather-proofed on all sides with tarpaulin that's been wrapped around trees and reinforced with wood.

I push aside the tarpaulin curtain in the doorway and I look around curiously. It's a small room, and it’s surprisingly dry. There are two trunks of wood that are clearly meant for sitting down. I notice a small battery operated lantern in the corner next to a pile of what looks like aluminum foil. There’s not much else.

"What's that?" I ask, gesturing to the pile of "supplies."

"A lantern and Mylar blankets to keep warm. You know, in case the fence turns on and we need to spend the night out here."

"Has that ever happened?"

"Yeah," she says apologetically. "Not for a while though. We just prefer to be prepared."

She closes the tarpaulin doorway curtain behind her and the light fades from the room.

“Do you light a fire in here sometimes?”

She shakes her head as she turns on the lantern, bathing the room in an orange glow. “No, it’s too risky. We’re too close to the fence; someone could see the smoke. We can light a fire at the cottage by the lake, though.”

“The lake?” I settle down on one of the stump steps and set my bag down beside me.

“You don’t know about the lake?” she says when she sees my confusion. I shake my head no. She sighs. “I guess no one would’ve told you, right? There’s a big lake, about a two hour walk from here,” she explains. “My father used to take me there when I was little. There’s an old fisherman’s cottage by the lake, complete with a fireplace. The roof used to leak, but Gale and I fixed it a couple of years ago. It’s a good base for hunting in winter.”

“Why would you need a base?”

“There’s less prey in winter,” she explains. “So if I don’t have any luck hunting near the fence, I sometimes go to the hut and stay there for a few nights. Because I don't hunt there regularly, there’s more prey.”

I want to ask her if Gale has stayed in that hut with her too, but it’s not appropriate. It's bad enough knowing that they've stayed in this shelter together. Besides, she said that Gale wasn’t her ex. I really need to stop thinking about Gale.

We both take out the food we’ve brought. I unwrap the sandwiches and cheese buns, and she sets out some dried meat, nuts and a metal tin filled with tea, which is still warm.

“I don’t remember the last time I was this hungry,” I say. The words just slip out, and as soon as I hear my own voice, I regret them.

Katniss doesn’t seem to mind, though. She grins. “It’s all the fresh air, baker boy.” She nods towards the cheese buns. “You brought more of those buns?” Her voice is hopeful.

“Yes. But you have to be a good girl and eat your sandwich first.” She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t need any more encouragement to dig into her ham and cheese sandwich. We share the food and tea. We don’t speak much since we’re too busy eating, but it’s a companionable silence. I can barely keep my eyes off of her. And she sends me stolen looks, too. Her lips curl up in a smile when our eyes meet.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with you,” she admits. She’s just finished the last cheese bun. Her eyes are big and nearly black in the semi-darkness of the shelter.  “How we got here. It’s only been two days since…”

“… Since our first kiss,” I finish. I lean a bit closer. It’s much more intimate in here than outside in the woods. 

“Yes.” She takes a deep breath. “I never really considered being with anyone. It just didn’t seem important. But then…” She shakes her head. “I can’t describe it. I’m terrible with words,” she says apologetically. “But I just can’t seem to stop kissing you.”

I gently trace her jaw with my fingertips. "Then don't.”

We don’t speak much after that. There’s touching, over our clothes. She murmurs that her hands are cold, and I open my coat so she can slip them underneath it. I’m glad I’m sitting down, and that my long, thick wool sweater hides my erection. Her hands don’t venture below my navel, though, and I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or relieved.

“My hands are kind of cold, too,” I murmur in her ear.

“Really?” She chuckles, and we both know it's a lie. It's surprisingly warm in here. She unbuttons her coat and reaches for one of the silver crinkly mylar blankets and wraps it around her shoulders before encouraging me to join her. We lean against one of the trees that acts as a structure for the shelter, and I sigh in relief when my hands encounter the heat of her body. Even through her wool sweater, I can feel how small she is. She’s thin, soft, and her body is alluring. I kiss her lips and brush my fingertips along the underside of the swell of her breast.

She pulls away, and our eyes meet. I immediately remove my hand. “Sorry. Too much?” I whisper.

She hesitates. Then she shakes her head slowly. "It's just enough." Then she kisses me again.

Xxx

We stay in the shelter until dusk. We're sitting side by side, with a Mylar blanket wrapped around us and our fingers intertwined. I don't know how long we've been in here, talking and kissing. She’s told me how she makes arrows, I've drawn several doodles on the dirt floor, and Katniss has complained about her sister’s cat.

Katniss gets up and peers out of the shelter. It’s starting to get dark outside. “We should go,” Katniss says reluctantly.

I agree, though I find myself disappointed as she shuts off the lantern and closes the curtain behind her.

We retrace our steps through the woods. She helps me through the fence again, but this time, I don't let go of her hand on the other side. She doesn’t, either. So we walk, hand in hand, towards the Seam.

I swallow. “Katniss, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Her cheeks are rosy, and her braid is hanging over her shoulder.

“Can I… Uh, I mean… I’m sorry if you think this is too soon, but…” Katniss seems confused, and I curse myself for being such an idiot. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” I blurt out. “Will you allow it?”

She gasps in surprise, her eyes widening. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. _Oh no_ , I think in desperation as I see her struggle to find the right words to let me down gently. I’ve fucked this up. It was too soon. I’ve scared her away. _I’ve fucked this up._

But then her lips curl up in a smile, and she says, her voice barely audible, “I’ll allow it.”

Too soon, we are walking through the Seam. I don’t let go of her hand. Even when we meet people on the street, people who stare at us.

We’re at her house. The windows of the neighboring houses seem empty, but I’m not so sure if they really are. I don’t care, though. Katniss Everdeen wants to be my girlfriend. Katniss Everdeen _is_ my girlfriend.

“I had a really good time today,” I tell her. “Thank you so much for showing me the woods.”

“I had a really good time, too.” Her cheeks are flushed.

“Maybe we can meet tomorrow?”

She furrows her brow as she looks over my shoulder. I turn to look, and see the curtains in the window of Katniss’s neighbor move. So someone did see us. She turns her attention back to me. “Do you want to come over after work tomorrow?”

“I’d love to.” I give her a kiss on the lips, short and soft. Who knows if their neighbor is still looking at us through their curtains, but I can’t help myself.

“Goodnight, Peeta.” Her breath is warm against my throat as I pull her in for a hug.

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

On the way home, I’m not able to wipe the grin off my face.

 

**_Katniss_ **

“So. I hear you’ve been hanging out with Peeta?” Madge says. We’re at her house. I’ve sold a couple of squirrels to her father.

“Yes, I have.” Peeta has come to my house every day after work. “Who told you?”

“Daisy Donner. She said that you and Peeta have been seen together in the Seam.” She raises her eyebrows questioningly, and her eyes sparkle. I wonder how Daisy knew. Daisy is Madge’s cousin and she is of course Merchant, too. If Daisy knows what’s going on in the Seam, then it’s a safe bet that _everyone_ in Town knows.

I haven’t seen Madge in a couple of days, mainly because I’ve spent so much time with Peeta. I decide to fill her in on what’s happened. “You remember that he was going to come to my house after the Midwinter party, right?”

“Yes, of course.” She snorts. “As if I’d forget something like that. I may have been hungover when you told me, but I wasn’t unconscious.”

“Well, it was awkward at first. He brought cheese buns from the bakery, and we had tea with Prim and Mother.”

Madge laughs. “Wow, that’s one hot first date.”

I blush. “Um, yeah. But we did get to spend some time alone together, and it was nice. He’s easy to talk to, you know?” Madge’s smile becomes even wider.

“He is,” she says. “I’ve grown up with him. He’s a great guy. Pretty hot too, don’t you agree?” I blush furiously, and of course she notices, because she continues, “I bet he lifts a lot of flour sacks in that bakery, because he’s got what are arguably the best looking arms in 12.”

I feel a tingle of something run through my body at the thought of Peeta’s muscular arms, and the way they feel under my touch. I have to force myself to focus on continuing my story. “The next day, I took him to the woods.” Madge gasps in surprise. “We’ve met every day since then.”

“Oh, Katniss, it’s so _romantic_.” She pours me some more tea. “You really like him, don’t you?” I nod, and her face breaks into a huge smile. “I’m so happy for you!” She gives me a hug. “So how is he in bed?” she whispers with wide eyes after she’s released me.

“Madge! We haven’t…”

She laughs. “I know, I know. I’m just kidding.” She raises an eyebrow. “I bet he’s a great kisser, though.”

I blush furiously. “Um… yes,” I admit. “Not that I have anyone to compare him with, but… yes.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time together lately, then. Have you met his parents yet?” I shake my head. “His mother is a witch.”

“I know. And with me being Seam…”

“Mrs. Mellark isn’t going to like that.” That’s the understatement of the year.

“No, she won’t. Mr. Mellark used to date my mother, before she married Dad.”

Madge’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?” I nod. “Oh, wow. Well, Peeta’s a brave guy, I’ll give him that. And so are you.”

I take another bite of bread, and savor the rich flavor of butter. “It’s not easy,” I say after swallowing, relishing the taste. “The whole Seam versus Town thing. How do you and Gale do it?”

“We’re not like you and Peeta. Gale and I are just… um…” Her voice trails off.

“Have you…” 

She nods, her cheeks flushed, but there’s a smile on her lips now. I exhale shakily. I kind of knew already, but the confirmation that they have gone all the way makes me uneasy. I hope Gale’s not just using her.

Surprisingly though, when I think that maybe, one day soon, I’ll have that same look on my face at the mention of Peeta's name, it makes me feel… I shift on the chair, but it doesn’t really help. I hope Madge doesn’t notice how flushed my face has become.

“You have to be careful,” I warn her. “So you don’t get hurt.”

She shrugs, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll be alright. It’s not serious between us. We’re just having fun.” She clears her throat. “Anyway… Speaking of having fun, my parents are letting me have a party on New Year’s after all.”

“Really?” I’m surprised they did, considering the state she came home in less than a week ago.

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “Well, I may have had to tell a _tiny_ white lie.”

“What white lie?”

“That I had already invited a few people. We had discussed New Year’s before the Midwinter Dance,” she explains, “and my parents had sort of agreed that I could have the party. So today I told them that I had invited a few close friends last week, and it would be awkward if I had to cancel.”

“That’s all it took for them to agree?”

“No,” she admits. “It took me a while to convince them, and I had to promise that there won’t be _any_ alcohol. And that the party will be over by one at the very latest.”

That sounds reasonable. “You’re lucky they said yes at all.”

“Yes. But there will, of course, be alcohol,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Just not as much as there was at the Midwinter dance.”

I giggle. “Why am I not surprised?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s New Year’s Eve, so of course we need alcohol. In the Capitol they usually drink champagne to celebrate, and Dad has a few bottles in the basement, but he’d notice if it they went missing. So I guess we’ll have to rely on Gale’s white liquor.” I’m not surprised that Gale is her source of liquor. He has good contacts in the Hob. “My parents think that you and Peeta accepted my invitation last week,” she continues, “so I really hope you’ll come.”

“Well, we don’t really have any plans, so…”

“We?” Madge’s face breaks into a huge smile. “Katniss, are you listening to yourself? You just we’d. Oh, this is _so_ sweet.”

“Well, um…” I mumble. “I’ll ask him if he wants to go.”

I’m not really sure about this. Aside from me, all of Madge’s friends are Townies. It’s basically going to be me and a bunch of Townies who are going to be staring at Peeta and me. And Gale’s going to be there, too. I wonder if there’s any way I can get out of this.

“Great.” She smiles. “I’ll see you there then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know! It's been almost 6 months! I'm so sorry you had to wait this long for an update, but here it is at last! 
> 
> Thank you to Lbug84 for betaing, Chelzie for prereading and otrascosasseries making the banner! I love you all!

**_Peeta_ **

“You two are a disgrace to the family.”

Rye and I look up in surprise. I freeze, the spoon of thin cabbage soup halfway between the plate and my mouth.

“You should take after your older brother more,” Mother continues. “Bannock got married at 20, to a nice Town girl who’s going to inherit her father’s business. But you two? All you do, Rye, is run after Seam girls.”

“I’m dating Myrtle now,” Rye objects. “She’s Merchant.” I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s been dating Myrtle for all of five days. Or is it six? Rye’s ‘relationships’ rarely last more than a month. Chances are he’ll be chasing some other girl within weeks, and the next one might very well be Seam. There are a number of things you could say about Rye, but he’s certainly not an elitist. I’ll give him that.

Mother raises an eyebrow. “Are you considering settling down with Myrtle Toller?”

“Settling down?” Rye sighs, and I have to pinch my thigh really hard to keep myself from bursting out in laughter. “We’ve been on three dates. It’s not as if we’ve talked about what color to paint the kitchen.” From what he’s told me, they haven’t really _talked_ very much at all.

“Well, settling down is something you _should_ be talking about, Rye. Your father was married and had a child on the way when he was your age.” Yeah, and look how well that worked out for him. “It’s just one girl after the other with you, and the vast majority have been absolutely _unthinkable_ matches. You bed them, you have your fun, and then you leave them. And now it looks like you’ve started taking after your brother, too, Peeta. _Katniss Everdeen_? What were you thinking?”

I clench my jaw. I’m not surprised that Mother has heard about Katniss and me. I knew that she wouldn’t be happy. The viciousness in her voice when she says Katniss’s name is still unsettling.

“It’s none of your business who we go out with,” Rye mutters. 

“It will be the day one of your Seam sluts ends up pregnant,” she hisses.

“Stop it.” My voice is low, but firm.  Her jaw drops in surprise. I never talk back to my mother. I meet her eyes and, for once, my gaze does not waver. “Don’t use a word like that on Katniss. Or on _any_ young lady.”

Mother’s eyes narrow. She stands up from the chair and walks around the table. As if in slow motion, I see her hand coming towards my face.

She hasn’t done this for a long, long time. It’s been so long, she seems to have forgotten that I’m no longer a defenseless 12-year-old boy. Fast as a snake, I catch her wrist with my hand before she can strike my cheek, keeping it in a tight grip as I stand up from my chair and look down at her. Her eyes widen. What I see in them now isn’t anger like before – it’s fear. No words pass between us as we stand there unmoving, our eyes locked.

“That’s enough. Both of you.” Father’s voice is sharp from the opposite side of the table. But he hasn’t gotten up from his chair.

I release her. I sit back down and resume eating my bowl of soup. Mother returns to her chair, massaging her wrist. She looks shaken.

I look at my kind, but weak father, and I wonder why he _settled_. He has allowed his wife to push him around for nearly 25 years. He never once stood up for his children. The lines on his forehead have deepened over the past few years. Witnessing the misery that is my parents’ marriage was what convinced me that I’d marry for love. I’d never marry because it was _convenient_ or expected of me.  

“Katniss is my girlfriend.”

Mother gasps in shock. I ignore her. I meet Father’s eyes, and I’m not quite sure what I see in them. He nods, once. Then he starts scooping up the last drops of soup with a piece of day-old bread, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Rye shift nervously in his chair. No one says a word.

We finish our soup in silence. Mother stands, grinding her teeth while she collects the dishes. Mother excuses herself and walks into the kitchen.

“Congratulations, son.”

I turn around in surprise to look at Father. His elbows are resting on the table. His hand, covered with scars from years of baking, is playing with his empty glass.

“Thank you.”

“Katniss is a good girl. The way she managed to feed her family after her father died, and after Lily…” His voice trails off. After Lily _went_ _mad_ , he was going to say, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He clears his throat. “Well, it was extraordinary. You’ve been interested in her for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” I hesitate. “How did you find out?”

He smiles. “When you were in school, whenever there was a school concert or play, you’d watch her, even though you tried to hide it. You also kept using any excuse to work in the back of the bakery at around the time Katniss usually came to trade.”

I didn’t know that I’d been that obvious. “Yeah. I’ve been noticing her for a long time.”

“I’m surprised, to be honest. I thought Katniss was Gale Hawthorne’s girlfriend.”

Mother's footsteps come closer. Father keeps his eyes on hers as she walks past us in the dining room. She climbs the stairs without a word.

“She’s not,” I say.

"What?" Father asks, returning his attention to me.

"She's _my_ girlfriend. Not Gale Hawthorne's. There's no confusion about that." I steal a look at Rye, who is looking at me with a huge grin on his face. My face feels hot, and I know I'm blushing. "Shut up," I tell him, trying to preemptively stop his jests, but he speaks anyway.

“Aw, my baby brother is in love!” Rye teases.

"I said 'shut up,' you moron."

Father ignores Rye. “You should invite Katniss over for dinner one day," he tells me.

I almost choke on my next breath. “What?”

Rye laughs. “Sure. That’s a _terrific_ idea.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“I mean it,” Father insists.

“Mother’s going to have a fit,” Rye says.

Father stands up from his chair. “I’ll have a talk with your mother.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. I just stare at him, wordless. Father goes upstairs, leaving me and Rye, both stunned, in the dining room.

“Fuck,” Rye says. “That was… _fuck_.”

“I know.”

“That’s the weirdest _fucking_ conversation I’ve ever heard in this house.”

“Yeah," I agree.

“It’s really unfair, though,” he complains.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how many Seam girlfriends have I had?”

I can’t help but laugh. “I guess that depends on how you define the word ‘girlfriend,’ but my guess is half...”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. All I know is that I’ve been with Seam girls for years, and not even once has Father suggested that one of them come over for dinner. But you? You spend a week or so with Katniss Everdeen, and _boom_! Father has a fight with Mother, and Katniss gets a dinner invitation." Rye laughs. “I bet we could sell tickets for that dinner and make a small fortune. Half the Seam and probably all of Town would pay good money to see the show. Poor Katniss.”

I roll my eyes, because really he should be saying 'poor Mother.'

"Katniss will eat her alive."

 

 

**_Katniss_ **

There aren’t many things to do in 12 when you’re young. I didn’t really notice until now. Between taking care of Prim, school and hunting, I haven’t had much time to be bored. When I’ve had some spare time, I’ve been perfectly content staying at home.

Now  I’m starting to understand what my classmates moaned about back when we were in school. Even though Peeta has told his parents that we’re together, meeting at his place is just not an option right now. I shudder at the thought of speaking with Mrs. Mellark. We usually end up meeting at my place and even then, it’s hard to find some time alone. Mother does allow us to spend time in my room, but she insists on the door being open, which I think is incredibly embarrassing. It's as if she’s expecting us to do something improper.

Thinking about our kisses and how they've been growing increasingly passionate, she might have a point about that open door.

Peeta got off work early today so we decide to go for a walk, if only to get away from Prim and Mother for a little while. There’s not enough time before nightfall to go outside the fence, so we go to the river instead, despite the cold. Our options are limited. It’s basically the river or the slag heap.

 “This district is a dump,” Peeta complains. He’s throwing rocks into the river, which looks pretty in the afternoon sun, but I know it’s lifeless. We’re downstream from the mines.

I’m surprised to hear Peeta say something like that. He’s never really seemed to be discontent with 12. Unlike Gale, I’ve never heard him say anything about politics or the Capitol. “What do you mean?”

“This is going to sound really superficial, but aside from the obvious things making 12 a dump – food shortages, peacekeepers, the mines – the district is _boring_. Plain and simple. On the Capitol TV shows, teenagers have places to go to. Cafes, clubs… places that don’t involve having parents around or freezing your ass off.”

“I guess.” I throw a rock into the river, too. I shrug. “I never really gave it much thought. We don’t have anything in common with Capitol teens.” They can’t get reaped, for starters. “It just doesn’t make sense to compare them to us, I guess. They even look much older than we do.”

Peeta laughs. “All the actors in those shows are at least 30.”

“Really?”

“Don’t you read gossip magazines?”

“No,” I admit. I consider this new piece of information. “I guess that explains their perfect skin.”

Peeta laughs. “I know, right? Not a pimple in sight. I wouldn’t have known about their age either, if my mother hadn’t gotten old gossip magazines from the hair salon.” That’s right, Mrs. Terran, who owns the salon, is Mrs. Mellark’s younger sister.

“That’s what you _say_ , anyway,” I tease him. “I bet you secretly _love_ reading about Capitol celebrities, their boyfriends, and break-ups and dresses. Very manly, Mellark.”

“Katniss!” He feigns shock. “It’s not as if I _like_ reading gossip magazines. I have to stay informed so I can have conversations with Mother that don’t end with her yelling at me.” He chuckles, but he still seems tense. His mother is a sensitive subject. “Would you go to the Capitol? If you ever got the chance?”

I’m surprised by his question. I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it. We’re not allowed to travel outside 12, anyway.”

“I know. But if you could, would you?”

I hesitate. I don’t usually dream about things I know I can’t have, it’s always seemed pointless to me. I’ve come to realize that even though I’m pragmatic, Peeta is a dreamer. “No. I think I would feel really out of place. Like I don’t belong there. Their outrageous clothes, all the weird make-up and wigs, the superficial things they talk about…” I throw another rock into the river. “I’d like to go to 4, though, and swim in the ocean. I loved the photos in our geography book, and I’ve always wanted to swim in salty water, just to see if it’s different from freshwater.”

“You can swim?” He stops throwing rocks and looks at me.

“Yes, I can."

“Wow.” He whistles. “I don’t know anyone else who can swim, I think.”

“My dad taught me in the lake I told you about.”

“Do you like it?”

“Very much,” I smile. “Especially on a hot summer day. I can teach you, if you like. This summer, in the lake.”

“I’d love that,” he smiles back. “Just you and me.” There’s something in his smile that makes my heart beat faster. Maybe it’s the way his voice seems to go just a little bit darker when he says the words ‘you and me.’ It's as if he’s imagining the things we could do alone and on a beach.

Is he imagining the same things I am? Does he also want to know what it would feel like to have his bare skin slide against mine? To have his weight on top of me? I can’t him ask any of that. It's not proper. “Would you go to the Capitol?” I ask him instead. I need to distract myself from thinking about water droplets drying on his pale skin in the sunshine. Or maybe he tans in summer?

“Yes,” he says, blissfully unaware that I’m wondering what his body looks like under his clothes. He wrestled in school, and I bet he lifts flour sacks in the bakery all the time…

Focus, Katniss, focus.

I’ve missed a sentence or two of his answer, so I force myself to concentrate on his words instead of… I shift uneasily. Thankfully, Peeta doesn’t seem to notice. “… but I’d still like to see the Capitol for myself. See if the people there really are like on television. What if they’re not? Maybe they’re just like us when you get to know them?”

I don’t know how to answer. The thought seems foreign to me. Sometimes the Capitolites seem like a different species altogether.

“And I guess I want to find out if they know about what goes on here - the hunger, the mine accidents,” he continues.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

He shrugs. “They only know what they’re taught at school and what they see on TV, just like us. Who knows what they’ve written in their textbooks? Their books might be just as biased as ours.”

“Biased?” I huff. “You mean 'full of lies,' don't you?” Gale has told me some stories, things he’s heard down in the mines, I think. About what really happened way back during the Dark Days. I’m not sure if I believe all of it, but I trust Gale much more than I trust the school books the Capitol provides us with.

“Same thing, but ‘biased’ just sounds better.”

“I guess.” A hundred yards away or so, across the river, I can just about make out the fence through some bushes. The sight alone makes me angry, even though I know the fence is most likely off as usual. The fence is still a symbol of the fear and oppression that keeps us trapped in 12. “The people in the districts mean nothing to the Capitolites. They think we are inferior. How else would you explain the Hunger Games? There sure aren’t any Capitol kids in the arena.”

He snorts. “That would be interesting, don’t you think? The Capitol kids would be hunted down within hours, with their wigs and shiny, sparkly clothes.” He laughs. “And imagine those high heels in the mud?”

“Not exactly camouflage,” I agree with a smile. But the thought of Capitol children in the arena is so foreign it’s hard for me to picture it. “I bet they couldn’t find food unless they came across a fridge, either.”

“The Game Makers would probably send them one.” His smile fades at the thought. Of course, in the highly unlikely event that Capitol teenagers would ever be in the Hunger Games, they’d get special treatment, and they’d probably win. High heels and all. He sighs. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it, anyway.” He turns towards me. “Hey, is your aim with rocks as good as with your bow?” He’s obviously trying to change the subject, and I’m grateful. Meeting with Peeta is my escape from the harsh realities of 12. When I’m with him, I can laugh, smile, and kiss. I don't have to worry about our situation here in 12 for a little while.

“I’m not really sure. Hunting small prey with rocks isn’t practical, so I never wasted time throwing rocks to find out.”

“So you’re always practical, huh?” I scowl at him, and he nudges me gently in the side. He does have a point, although I’ll never admit it out loud. I am practical. It’s a necessity for survival. “Do you see that log over there?” He points at a log on the opposite bank of the river.

“Yeah.”

“Think you can hit it?” He grins. “Come on, Everdeen.”

I’m always up for a challenge, and for the next fifteen minutes or so, Peeta tries to beat me at a rock throwing game he makes up. It quickly turns out that being an archer does give me an edge. Even though Peeta tries to distract me by kissing me or startling me by making sudden sounds as I’m taking aim, I still win by a landslide.

“I’d win if we were throwing cheese buns,” he claims.

I snort. “Only because I'd never throw away a cheese bun."

He looks at the horizon, where the sun is low. “We better get back soon,” he sighs.

“Yes. Mother wanted to ask you over for supper.”

He smiles. “I’d love that.” He’s seemed more comfortable about sharing our food lately, although he still brings food over almost every day. He tries to be discreet about it, but he doesn’t quite succeed.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” I say. I’ve put off talking about it simply because I haven’t wanted to think too much about it. Stupid Town party. “Madge asked me if we wanted to come to her party on New Years’.”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. “She’s allowed to have a party? After coming home wasted just a few days ago? Didn’t she throw up in her bed?”

“No, she didn’t throw up in her bed. That’s gross!” I roll my eyes. “Don’t believe all the rumors you hear in that bakery of yours, Mellark.”

“Okay, okay. Madge was definitely wasted though, and her parents found out that their pretty, little daughter drinks white liquor with miners.”

“With _a_ miner,” I correct him.

“Even worse.”

He has a point, but I choose to ignore it. “Well, she said her parents agreed because it’s just a few of her closest friends. It’s probably not even really a _party_ , just a small get-together. A _shindig_. That’s all.”

He shrugs. “Well, it sounds fun. Rye’s been asking me what our plans are for New Years’, and finally I’ll have something to tell him.”

I take his hand as we start walking back towards the Seam. “I like it when you say ‘our plans.’”

He smiles brilliantly at me. “I like it, too.”

 

 

**_Peeta_ **

I’m horny basically _all_ of the time. I’ve fantasized about Katniss for years. Actually being able to kiss her _and_ touch her is fueling my fantasies to the point where it’s physically painful. I jerk off in the bathroom more often than I care to admit.

Rye knows. “You have the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever seen,” he smirks when I step out of the bathroom at night. “It’s a miracle they haven’t fallen off yet.” I huff. “It’s a miracle your cock hasn’t fallen off too, with all the jerking off.”

“Shut up,” I mutter.

“You need to fuck Everdeen. _Right_ _now_. Get your ass up and go to the Seam. It’s the only way to preserve what little is left of your sanity.”

“Not everyone just jumps straight into bed with everyone and anyone who’s willing.”

He smirks. “Not _anyone_. I draw the line at 18.”

I roll my eyes.  “Well, thankfully you do now that you’re 20, but it wasn’t always like that.”

“You can’t draw the line at 18 when you’re 14, Peeta,” he winks. “If you do, you’ll never get laid at all." Rye has been giving me way too much information about his sex life ever since he was 14 and lost his virginity at the slag heap.

I don’t really want to get into a discussion about never getting laid, so I don’t answer.

“Do you want any advice?” Rye asks after a moment of silence.

"No."

“I’m going to give it to you, anyway.” Ugh. He loves making me feel uncomfortable.

“Keep your voice down,” I mutter. There’s no stopping him. “If Mother hears…”

My palms are sweating. Getting more or less unwanted general ‘advice’ from my older brother is one thing, but when there’s suddenly a possibility of this being real, it’s different.

“You’re a virgin, right?”

“I’m not answering that,” I say through clenched teeth, but I’m sure my deep blush gives me away.

“I’ll take that as a yes. The most important thing is that you _really_ need to jerk off first. At least once, maybe even twice. If you don’t, you’ll blow your load in three seconds. But judging from your activity in the bathroom lately, you’ve got that covered.” I close my eyes. Sometimes I _really_ hate Rye. “The second thing you need to remember is that no matter how horny you are, you have to get her wet first. Of course, if you remembered to jerk off, it’s going to make taking your time to warm her up properly a lot easier.” He winks. “The warming up part can be a _lot_ of fun, too.”

He grabs a pen and a sheet of paper from my desk. Rye is definitely not an artist, but I immediately see what he’s drawing. “Rye!” I hiss.

“Think of it as a roadmap of some important landmarks,” he says. “This is…”

“I know what all of _that_ is!” I groan.

“You may know the _names_ of all the bits and pieces, but you don’t really know your way around them, now do you?”

Fuck this.

“Even if you jerk off first, you’re not likely to last very long the first time, so you should really try to make her come first. It takes some practice to get it right if you’ve never done it before. I’m doing you a _huge_ favor here, believe me.” He makes some finishing touches on his drawing.  “I’m sure Katniss can give you some pointers, too. She’s probably been fucking Hawthorne in the woods for years.”

That’s what everyone thinks anyway, including me – well, at least I did until the Midwinter Dance. I’m not so sure anymore, though. Katniss said there was nothing between her and Gale, though that’s not a _guarantee_ that they’ve never been physical. Maybe on their overnight trips to that cabin by the lake. Or when they’ve had to spend the night in the shelter…

“Peeta?” Rye looks at me with an odd look in his face. I realize I’ve been lost in thought and forgot to answer him.

“Huh?”

“You just spaced out.” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Um, what if she hasn’t?”

Rye leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Are you saying that she _hasn’t_ fucked Hawthorne?”

I cringe at his choice of words. “I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “We shouldn’t talk about this. I mean, what I have or haven’t done is one thing, but talking about Katniss like this… It’s just not right.”

He narrows his eyes. “If she really is a virgin, she’ll thank me for this later.”

“No, she won’t.” Katniss would be really, really pissed off if she knew about this conversation.

Rye rolls his eyes. “Okay, so let’s just say, hypothetically speaking, that she’s a virgin, too. That changes things. Radically.”

“It does?”

Rye scratches his head. “Yeah. You really need to ask her first, so you know what you’re getting into. First times can be exciting, of course, but they usually require a lot of time and patience. That's why I prefer my girls already broken in, so to speak.”

“Rye!” My brother must be the rudest person on the planet. I can hardly believe my own ears.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a pussy. So back to the point - you need to get her wet, which – if she’s a virgin – requires time, patience, and quite possibly the Mellark tongue.”

I groan. It’s hardly the first time he’s told me of the famous Mellark tongue. As if going down on a woman could possibly be a trait that runs in the family. It’s ridiculous.

But I have to confess that I’m really curious about doing that with Katniss. I wonder if she’d let me. I shift uneasily, and hope that Rye doesn’t notice my growing erection. Even though I jerked off only ten minutes ago.

Rye hands me his sketch. It’s rudimentary, but it gets the message across. “So here’s what you do. You start out with…”

Mortified, but also secretly desperate for advice, I listen to him, mostly without interrupting. Afterwards, Rye proclaims that he _really_ needs to see Myrtle, and then he licks his lips and grins. It’s pretty obvious what he has in mind.

Finally alone in our bedroom, I look down at the stupid drawing Rye made. The lines and little circles seem to blur in front of my eyes.

I don’t know when Katniss and I will take the next step. It’s not something we’ve discussed yet. I don’t know how or when to bring it up, and I don’t want to pressure her. If or _when_ we do get to that point, I also don’t want to make a fool of myself. Maybe I should’ve gone further with one of the Town girls who were clearly interested in me in school, just to get it over with. Sure, I made out with a few of them, usually at parties when we were both drunk. It felt good to kiss them and touch their breasts over the clothes, but it just wasn’t what I wanted - _who_ I wanted. 

Now, I have the girl I want. Katniss kisses me, talks to me, and laughs at my jokes; she’s my _girlfriend_. I want her so much it’s driving me crazy, but I’m also terrified. I want it to be perfect, and I’m not sure if I know enough to give that to her.

What if I can’t make her come?

I fold the drawing and put it between two pages of a book. Then I hide it behind the other books on my bookshelf, just in case Mother goes through our things. You never know.

 

 

**_Katniss_ **

I’m putting my book back on the bookshelf, about to go to bed, when Mother suddenly clears her throat. I turn around. Mother is sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. “Katniss, I’d like to speak with you before you go to bed.”

“Sure.” I’m more than a little bit surprised. Mother rarely asks to have a _talk_ with me, and she looks nervous. I wonder what this is all about. 

“I probably should have talked to you about this long ago,” she haltingly begins. “But you are an adult now, and with that, there are certain… _responsibilities_.”

I furrow my brow. I’ve been taking care of this family since I was 12. I know all about responsibility. I’m about to open my mouth and tell her just that when she continues. “We need to talk about what your relationship with Peeta might lead to.”

I swallow hard. Oh no. Not this. “Mother, I…”

“Katniss, I’ve been young and in love, too.”

“ _Mother_!”

“Will you please just listen to me?” Mother looks about as uncomfortable as I feel. I reluctantly nod, sit down on the couch, and keep my eyes fixed on the old and faded carpet. My cheeks are burning. “You know what happens between a man and a woman, right?”

I just want to die. Right now. “Yes,” I mutter.

“Good. The time will come when you might want to… do that. I want to be very clear that I definitely think you should wait until you get married, but I’m a healer, and I know better than most that not all couples wait for marriage. If you choose not to wait, I want you, _need_ you, to be responsible.”

“Mother, we’re not… we’re not, um…” I can’t even finish my sentence, I’m so embarrassed.

“I understand, but that could change. Katniss, this is a conversation we should’ve had a long time ago. Sometimes I worried that you and Gale…” Her voice trails off.

“Gale and I were never involved,” I mutter.

“But Gale wanted to be. Right?”

I nod reluctantly. “How did you know that?”

“I saw the way he was looking at you. But I also realized that you weren’t looking at him the same way, so I put off talking to you about this. It was irresponsible of me.” This is quite possibly the worst conversation I’ve ever had in my life. “The way you’re looking at Peeta now, though… that’s different.”

She gets up, opens a drawer and takes out a small brown paper bag. “Here. This is for you. Just in case.”

I accept the bag and open it. I’ve never actually seen one of these before, but even if it weren't written boldly across the package, I’ve heard enough descriptions to immediately know what they are: a Capitol invention called the _lubricated_ _condom_. Contraceptives that keep the… I can’t even think about their method of action. My blush deepens.

“Where did you get these?”

“I have contacts. I sometimes have to buy Capitol medicines for my patients.” I wonder how much getting me these cost her. “I can’t stress enough that it’s catastrophic if you get pregnant without being married. Peeta’s a good boy, but the divide between Town and the Seam is deep, even deeper than you realize. His family may not approve. And Peeta may be from Town, but his options are limited, too.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other for a week. Getting married is not something we have discussed at all.”

“I understand that, Katniss. But if you’re not responsible, you could end up in a situation where you’ll find yourself an unwed mother to a starving child. I can’t let you ruin your life. So I’m going to teach you how to use condoms, and how to keep track of your cycle if they are not available to you. One day, maybe years from now, or maybe soon, with someone who may or may not be Peeta, this information will be useful to you. I’m not going to be the mother who just stood by and watched her daughter ruin her life. I’ve let you down in the past. I’m not going to do that again.” Her eyes are burning with tears now.

I take a deep breath and slowly nod my head. "Okay."

Half an hour later, in the darkness of mine and Prim’s shared bedroom, I tuck the paper bag into my drawer. I hide it under some of my spare hunting clothes, because I know that Prim never borrows them. My cheeks are still burning.

Prim is asleep, and doesn’t budge when I curl up under the blanket next to her and close my eyes. But sleep won’t come.

I never really understood it before. Why girls and women make themselves vulnerable, all because of a man. When they taught us the mechanics of sex at school, I just thought it was gross. But when I think about it now, about Peeta’s body against mine as he kisses me… I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Peeta like _that_.

Blood is pulsing in my lower body, and my right hand has somehow moved down to the outside of my thigh. I have to stifle a gasp, terrified of waking Prim. This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. But I can’t stop myself, as my hand seems to have traveled to between my legs on its own volition, and my thighs are parted, without me noticing that I did so. But when my fingers touch the hem of my panties, I tear my hand away, my face burning with shame. I put both of my hands under my pillow, to keep them from drifting down again. I shift my body so that I’m lying on my side, with my back towards Prim, who’s thankfully still sleeping.

I think I understand now. Why women take chances, even knowing it can ruin their lives forever. And the thought is very scary.

 

* * *

 

I decide not to tell Peeta about the condoms. It could come across as if I’m _planning_ to go all the way. I’m not planning that. Not really. Not _planning_.

If I'm honest with myself, I am curious. His hands feel so good when he touches me. His body is so warm and firm, even though my fingers haven’t ventured under his clothes.

Peeta arrives later than usual tonight. He says that he had to work overtime at the bakery. Prim and Mother went to see a patient before he got here, and Mother didn’t mention anything about Peeta _not_ being welcome when I was alone here. She must’ve known that he’d show up, though, because he's here every night.

We don’t talk much tonight. We’re too busy doing other things, now that we’re alone in the house for once.

We're on the couch. Peeta is to the right of me and my right leg is draped over his left. Our bodies are turned toward each other as we kiss deeply, eagerly. Peeta's hands find my hips and he encourages me onto his lap. I move to straddle him, but the movement is awkward. I've never sat on anyone like this.

"Sorry," I say quietly. I adjust myself in his lap.

"No, it's good." He leans forward and kisses me again. His hands tangle in my messy hair as he leans back, taking me with him. His tongue strokes against mine perfectly, making me bold. Soon I find myself kissing his jaw and even down his neck. I stop myself before I get too carried away. "We should stop. My mother could be home any minute.” I sigh in pleasure against his throat as his hands squeeze my ass over my jeans. A shiver runs through him when I sneak my tongue out to lick his skin again.

He groans. “I’m not presentable right now.” I furrow my brow in confusion, and he blushes. “I’m… uh…”

I blush too when I realize what he’s talking about. He smiles a bit sheepishly. My curiosity wins over my shyness, and I look down between us. I take a sharp intake of breath when I see the outline of his… his… what do I even call it? Erection? That sounds so clinical. Penis? Even worse. Cock? I feel my face burning.

“Um, Katniss? Are you okay?” I look up at him, startled. “You just seemed to drift off for a minute.” He clears his throat and adjusts himself. “I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. I just can’t help it when I’m near you.”

“Does that happen every time we do this?”

“Pretty much,” he admits.

“But can’t you just _not_?”

He shakes his head. “No, not really. Cocks tend to have a mind of their own. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean it as an accusation, I’m just curious, I guess. I have no idea how _it_ works.” I look down between us again. I wonder… “Can I touch it?” I blurt out.

He blinks at me, clearly in shock. “Really?"

“Yes.” I’m surprised too, by just how much I want to touch him. “I mean, just over your clothes,” I add hurriedly. He frowns at me, and for a moment I'm afraid that I've asked too much of him. "Sorry, forget I asked."

"No, it's fine, it's just...” He takes a deep breath. “Have you ever done this before? With someone else?"

I can’t help but scowl. "You mean with Gale?"

"No, not Gale. Just, with anyone. Have you ever...?" He raises his eyebrows.

I bite my bottom lip and search his face for any sign of mocking or accusation. But I don't find it. "No. Have you?"

"No." He shakes his head slowly. "I want to though. With you, I mean." My eyes go wide. "Not right now. Just, know that I want to, whenever you want to." I nod my head slowly, processing his words. "You can touch me, if you still want to," he says, his voice a bit shaky.

Not daring to look at his face, I focus on the bulge in his jeans instead. My hand hesitantly moves down, and then I feel him through the denim fabric of his jeans. _Oh_. I can clearly feel the outline of his cock - yes, cock is definitely the best word - and he’s harder and bigger than I’d thought. I feel something deep in my belly, and realize we’re both breathing faster.

"Does that feel okay?"

“Feels really good,” he groans. “Your mother better not come home right now.”

He’s right. If Mother comes home now to find her daughter touching her boyfriend like this, even if it’s just over his clothes… and even though she _did_ give me condoms the other day…

"We probably have a few more minutes to ourselves." I hope.

“In that case, is it okay if I touch you, too?” His voice breaks.

“Touch me where?” I breathe.

“Under your clothes.” I freeze, and he notices. “Not down there,” he quickly continues, “just up here?” His thumb strokes the underside of my breast.

This is so odd. I’m still rubbing his cock through his clothes and he’s talking about touching my breasts. I guess I should feel that it’s disgusting, or at least really embarrassing, but it’s not. I’m surprised to realize that I want him to touch me. I lean forward and kiss him again. “Okay,” I whisper against his lips.

His hand moves down to my belly, where my shirt has ridden up a bit. He traces circles on my bare skin with his thumb. I exhale shakily. It feels like there’s a direct connection between the skin of my belly and that place between my legs. When he pulls the shirt up, just a little, and places his palm over my belly button, I can’t stop a moan from escaping from my throat.

His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pulls my shirt all the way up, as if he’s giving me time to change my mind. I help him by raising my arms, slipping the garment off and throwing it on the floor. The cool air against my skin makes me shiver. I don’t have curves like the Merchant girls do. Most days, including today, I don’t even bother to put on a bra. Bras are expensive, and I only have one. But it doesn’t seem like Peeta cares, because he’s staring at my small breasts with wide eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy. “So fucking beautiful.”

For some reason, his use of the word ‘fuck’ makes my core throb even harder. His hands, large and warm and with calloused skin from baking, close over my breasts, and I whimper. “Do you like that?”

I nod. I’m still too shy to consider touching him under his clothes down _there_ , but my hands slide under his shirt too, encountering warm skin and short, blonde hair. I can feel his muscles twitching under my touch. To my surprise, he suddenly moves, lifting me by the hips again and rolling so that I'm lying under him on the couch. He moves hastily and a bit clumsily, until his head is at the level of my chest. It takes a few seconds for me to understand. His eyes are big and black as he looks up at me, and I’m so grateful that this is happening with him. Peeta makes sure that I’m comfortable before he does anything. I nod again, and my eyes close as his tongue tarts out to flick over a nipple. “Peeta!” I moan, and his mouth closes around my nipple, sucking on my breast, and I buck my hips against him. Damn, the friction...it feels _so_ good, and…

Peeta makes a groaning noise and he presses against me, resting his weight entirely on me. His hips move rhythmically against my thigh... and then he goes still.

“Damn it.” He pants heavily.

“What?” I ask, bewildered. "What happened?"

“I just, uh… I came in my pants.” He blushes furiously as he looks up at me. “I’m sorry, I… uh…” He sits up, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable.

I’m not quite sure what to say. "Does that mean we have to stop?" Way to go, Everdeen.

“Yes. I mean _no_. I mean... it doesn't have to, but... I need to go to the bathroom,” he explains.

"Oh." My head is starting to clear. I know enough about what happens when a man ejaculates to understand his predicament. More or less.

He gets up, and quickly pulls down his shirt. I pick up my shirt from the floor and get dressed, too. When I look at him, I can see that there’s a small darker spot at the crotch of his jeans. He grimaces when he sees that I’ve noticed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You were just so… so…” He’s searching for words. “So incredibly sexy,” he finishes.

I smile. I’ve never felt sexy before, but Peeta is making me feel like maybe I am. “So are you,” I whisper. The way he felt against me, the sounds he made when he came… I lick my lips. He notices. His eyes darken. He takes a deep, shaky breath and steps away. He goes to the bathroom.

I sit with my head in my hands, only now realizing how worked up I was. 'Does that mean we have to stop?' Pfft. I sound like all of those girls I hate.

Peeta returns quickly, with a wet rag in his hand and an even bigger wet spot on his jeans. He looks bashful, as he walks over to the coat rack next to the front door and tucks the wet rag into the pocket of his coat. He turns back to me.

"I should get going."

"Why? What happened?" He's allowed to visit. My mother doesn't have to know anything happened here.

"There's really no hiding this." He gestures to his crotch. "Your mother will be home soon. It won't dry in time, and I'm going commando right now, so I could-"

"Commando?"

He gestures to the coat behind him. "Had to wash my underwear."

"Oh."

 I stand, watching him reluctantly put on his jacket and shoes.

“Bye, Katniss.” Unwilling to let him go quite yet, I stretch up and lock my hands laround his neck, forcing our lips meet in a long, hungry kiss. He might have... might have _come_ , but the fire is still raging in me. He’s the one who ends the kiss. “Damn, Katniss, I really need to go.”

The whole situation is so awkward that I can’t help laughing. He laughs, too, his face still flushed. “You’d better go,” I agree.

“Yeah, I really better.”

But he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses me again. But this time, when he ends the kiss, he lets go of me and adjusts his pants. “I’m going. _Definitely_ going this time.”

“Okay.” I bite my lip. “Goodnight, Peeta.”

“Goodnight.” He touches my braid. “You might want to fix your hair before your mother gets home,” he says with a smile before  disappearing into the night.

I go to the bathroom, and I see in the mirror that he’s right. Mother really can’t see me like this. I have messy hair, my face is flushed, and my eyes are heavy lidded with dilated pupils. I look as if I was just… I splash some cold water on my face to cool down, but I’m not sure if it really helps. My face is still flushed. I quickly rebraid my hair with shaking fingers.

When Mother and Prim come home less than five minutes later, I’ve just sat down on the couch, pretending to be very interested in a book.

“Did Peeta come to visit you?” Mother asks.

“Yes, he did," I say, not looking up from my book. I can’t meet her eyes. I hope she doesn’t ask me any questions about the book I’m pretending to read, because I don’t even know the title. “He had to go home early, though, because it’s New Year’s Eve tomorrow and he needs his sleep.”

I use the party tomorrow night as an excuse to go to bed early too, but it’s mainly to avoid getting more questions about what Peeta and I talked about or did today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: When I posted the last chapter of TMW, I said I wouldn't write any more multi-chapter fics. It wasn't a lie, I swear, at the time I was determined not to write anything but one-shots (except finishing my WIPs, of course) from now on. But I may have started working on another multi-chapter fic after all *cough cough*. It's called "Alice", and it's based on the book "A Town Like Alice" by Nevil Shute, but it's nowhere near being ready to be posted yet. But please look out for it! 
> 
> You'll probably get another chapter of Midwinter first, though. And the next chapter is - you guessed it! - the party at Madge's place. Which is going to be very interesting, to say the least! I'm not sure how long this fic will be - probably 6-7 chapters in total. 
> 
> Have a nice weekend! And I do love reviews. :)


	5. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    
> Happy New Year!
> 
> Katniss and Peeta are celebrating New Years too - yes, it's finally time for Madge's party. The reason why it’s taken me so long to get it this chapter out to you is that it span out of control. I ended up having to split it, but Part One alone is almost 8,000 words! I’ll probably update Alice before I post Part Two though, because Part Two still needs work.
> 
> As always, thank you Lbug84 for alphaing this! Love you!
> 
>  

 

_**Peeta** _

Rye is home.

I'm suddenly nervous when I see his winter boots in the hallway, wet from the melting snow. I was hoping he’d still be out with Myrtle, so I could sneak into our room unnoticed, trash the wet underwear in my pocket and rinse my wet pants, but no such luck. Ugh.

I consider my options. If I go upstairs wearing my coat and someone sees me, it will definitely look odd. If I take off the coat, and I happen to meet Father - or worse, Mother - before I get to my room, and they see my wet jeans, well… it will look a lot worse.

Dammit. I was completely unprepared for what it would be like; I underestimated how amazing it would feel to touch Katniss, to listen to her soft moans, to press my cock against her thigh…

I exhale shakily. Maybe Rye was right; I should probably jerk off before Katniss and I go all the way. If I lose control this quickly when we’re both still clothed, what is it going to be like if we actually have sex? When we’re both naked, and I can touch her, _all_ of her, and she can touch me, and… 

The thought of having sex with Katniss is, of course, enough for my cock. That insatiable traitor starts to react, despite the wet and uncomfortable jeans, and despite the cold sweat from fear of coming after two seconds and making a fool of myself.

That settles that, though. With a growing hard-on there’s no question anymore; the coat is staying on. I think of cold showers and how angry Mother is going to be if she sees me sneaking into the house, which helps me calm down enough to walk. Luckily, there’s no sign of my parents. They have probably already gone to bed, or more accurately to their _beds_. The bakery is open tomorrow, but we will close early because it’s New Year’s Eve.

When I reach my bedroom, my luck runs out. Rye isn’t asleep yet. He's sitting on his bed reading a comic book. He looks up and seems surprised when he sees me wearing my winter coat inside the house.

“Are you cold, Peeta?” He smirks.

"Freezing," I mutter. Taking off my coat, I try to get to our bathroom without facing him, in a perfectly inconspicuous way. But, my damn underwear is still in the pocket of the coat. I change my mind, quickly grabbing the coat which I hung over a chair just two seconds ago.

“You okay?”

I’ve fucked this up. I can hear it from the tone of Rye’s voice. I turn around, the coat hanging over my arm, hiding the wet spot on my jeans and the bulge from my semi.

“Fine.” I smile my most innocent smile. One I’ve perfected over 18 years of living in the same house as Mother.

“Did you have a good time at Katniss’s?” Rye asks, with a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah.”

“A _really_ good time?”

I've got to think of something to say and quick. I open my mouth, and... “Um…”

 _Idiot_. At school, the debate leader said I had a gift for expressing myself verbally and it’s true; I can usually talk myself out of pretty much any situation. But right now, words seem to fail me.

“What are you hiding behind your coat?” Rye is barely able to contain his laughter now.

“Nothing.”

Rye smiles knowingly. He tosses his comic book aside and gets up from his bed. He retrieves a clean pair of jeans from our closet (does he know? How can he _know_??) and throws them to me. In the confusion of catching them with just one hand, my coat falls to the floor and I expose my predicament.

Rye laughs out loud when he sees the wet crotch of my jeans. I blush furiously. “Don’t wake Mother!” I hiss.

"Okay, okay." Rye's laughing so hard he’s barely able to speak. “Go get cleaned up, and we’ll talk." He holds a hand up and looks away from me, fighting back more laughter. "I can't keep a straight face while you have cum in your pants.”

I clench my jaw, wanting to tell him that I don’t actually have cum in my pants, at least not anymore, but I decide to leave it for now. I pick up the jeans and blindly reach into the already open top drawer of our dresser for a fresh pair of underwear. Finally, I escape into our bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me. I rinse my boxer briefs again, and my pants, and then I hang the wet clothes up to dry over the shower. There’s no use in trying to hide this mess from Rye anymore, but Mother still can’t find out. Our bathroom is next to the chimney coming from the baker oven, so it’s always really hot in here. The clothes will be dry by tomorrow afternoon, and then I can safely put them in the laundry basket.

I put on the clean clothes and study my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are still flushed, and it’s not just because I just came in from the cold. I guess I can’t hide in the bathroom forever. Better get this over with.

Rye is lying on his bed, on top of the bed spread, his hands clasped behind his head. He grins widely when he sees me. Too widely. “You came in your pants, didn’t you?” Thankfully he keeps his voice low, so Mother can’t hear us through the wall us if she’s still awake. From the glint in his eyes, it’s clear he’s going to want details.

“Fuck you,” I reply. I sit down on my own bed, running a hand through my hair, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, you certainly didn’t fuck Katniss Everdeen.” He smiles knowingly. How does he know? Does he see right through me? “You're too frustrated to be someone who just fucked his girlfriend for the first time,” he explains. “Plus you had a huge wet spot on your jeans. It’s not rocket science, Peeta.” I grunt in frustration at that. "Tell me what happened," he says.

I search his face for any sign that he's about to burst into another fit of laughter, but he seems to have control of himself right now. “We just… uh…” I clear my throat. “We just touched over our clothes. Mostly.”

“Dry humping?” He nods his head, approvingly. “That’s cute. I used to do that back when I was 14, I think. Or 13?”

The only reason I’m not pinning him to the floor, is that I really don’t want to wake Mother. Rye used to wrestle too, and he's still a little bigger than I am, but he hasn’t been able to beat me since I was 12.

“Well, Mister One Minute Man, I hope it was good for her too.”

“One Minute Man?!” My voice breaks, which it hasn’t done in years. Rye laughs again, even harder this time.

“Sorry, Peeta,” he manages to mumble through his laughter. “It’s just…” he starts to cough because he’s laughing so hard. He's unable to complete his sentence, and his tears are streaming down his face.

“If you breathe one word about this to anyone, including that _stupid_ thing you just called me, I swear I’ll…”

Rye dries his tears with the back of his hand. “Don’t worry,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “I’d never do something like that to my own brother.”

“Thank you,” I say, with a sigh of relief.

“I will tease you mercilessly about this for _months_ when we’re alone, though.” I roll my eyes. I don’t doubt it for a second. “If you were touching each other _mostly_ over your clothes, at least you had the chance to put the tips I gave you last night to good use.” When I don’t answer, he narrows his eyes and continues. “Because you did, didn’t you?” I nervously lick my lips. “Did she come too?” he presses.

“I don’t think so,” I admit.

“Peeta!” He shakes his head. “You don’t _think_ so? That means she didn’t. Dammit! What did I tell you yesterday? Do we have to go over the drawing again?” He sighs dramatically.

I’m not going to tell him that I didn’t touch Katniss under her panties, which I most likely would have to do to make her come. Either way, I don’t want to share intimate details with Rye. I do believe him when he says he won’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure Katniss wouldn’t like me to talk about this with anyone, not even my brother. “There’s no need for the drawing."

“Are you sure about that?” Rye asks, and I nod vigorously. “Because it’s really important that you make her want to come back for more. Why do you think I get laid all the time?” He winks.

“That’s something I _really_ don’t want to think about.”

“I never thought I’d say this, what with how much time you’ve spent in the bathroom lately, but I think you need to jerk off more.”

I hide my flushed face in my hands and groan. This is a nightmare.

“Assuming she's still interested in you, for reasons beyond my comprehension, when are you seeing her again?”

I ignore that jab. “Tomorrow."

“Well, here’s what you have to do.” Rye says, with all the authority of an expert on the topic. “Jerk off three times tomorrow. Morning, midday and afternoon. Doctor’s orders.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?” Rye barely managed to graduate from school.

“I’m a doctor of looooove,” Rye winks.

“Sure,” I snort. So ‘love’ is what he calls his slag heap encounters now. He might have a point, though. Maybe I should jerk off more often tomorrow, just to be on the safe side.

Rye leans back on his bed, his hands under his head. He’s still smirking. “Are you spending New Year’s at Katniss’s place?” Rye knows that’s where I’ve been almost every day the last week, so it's not a wild assumption. “If you’re lucky, her mother and sister will get called out to a patient or something. Gives you two some time alone to…” He winks.

“We’re going to Madge’s,” I say, grateful that he’s sort of changing the subject to something less humiliating.

“Cool, we’ll see you there then.”

“You’re going, too?” I can’t hide my surprise.

 “Yeah.”

“Katniss said it’s just a shindig. I didn’t know Myrtle is friends with Madge.”

“No, she’s not. Wait, _shindig_?” Rye shakes his head. I wonder if Madge knows that Rye and Myrtle are coming tomorrow - and if there will be any other guests she’s not expecting. “Not a shindig. But, I'll tell you what. I’ll introduce you to Myrtle if you introduce me to Katniss.”

“Sure,” I smile, for the first time since I came home. Introducing Katniss to my brother is good. Really good. Of course, Rye isn’t the member of my family who has a problem with my relationship with Katniss. But still, it seems like a step forward.

“Great. I always wanted to talk to Katniss, but I never did. Pretty sure Hawthorne would've shot me with an arrow if I got within ten feet of her.”

“You have the hots for my girlfriend, Rye?” My voice goes down half an octave, and I give him my best cold glare. It works. Rye's demeanor immediately changes.

“No, um…No. But I, uh, thought she was pretty, and you know I like girls from the Seam.” He’s starting to babble, and I enjoy it. “I may have looked her way once or twice, a long time ago. That’s all.”

“Well, that had better be all.”

“I have moved on since then. Many times, in fact.”

I imitate of the way Mother shakes her head in disgust when she talks about Rye’s numerous girlfriends. Rye laughs somewhat nervously. “I’ll break your nose if you make a move on my girlfriend,” I warn him.

“Well, that settles that, then,” Rye quips. “I was going to hit on her-”

“Rye!”

"-just to mess with you, but I can’t risk my good looks." Rye stops smiling. “You know I wouldn’t actually do anything, right?” I reluctantly nod. Even though my brother, by his own admission, is an asshole, I know he’d never actually do anything with my girlfriend. “Besides, Myrtle is the jealous type.” He grins. “Which can be sort of fun, now that I think about it. Great potential for make-up sex. Maybe I'll find someone else to flirt with tomorrow night.”

I flop back on my bed, exhausted already.

**Katniss**

I’m in my room getting ready for the party when there’s a knock on the front door. Prim's footsteps excitedly move towards the door. I already know who it is, and I nervously look at myself in the small mirror on the wall. I’ve spent most of the day worried over which dress to wear, which I think my mother found amusing since it’s not the sort of behavior she is used to from me. Not that there were that many dresses to choose from, but still, it took me most of the day. Prim insisted I couldn’t wear the same dress I wore to the Midwinter Dance. So, I opted for a soft orange one from Mother’s merchant days, mostly because I know orange is Peeta’s favorite color. Mother is right, the dress does suit me well, even though it was sown for Mother almost 20 years ago.

I’m aware that the dress doesn't compare to the new and definitely fancier dresses the Merchant girls will wear tonight, but it’s just a shindig, so it probably doesn’t matter much anyway. Madge never judges my clothes, and even though I’m not sure who else she's invited, most of the people she's friendly with have been friendly all their lives. Delly, for example, is so ridiculously positive about everything that I’m sure I could show up dressed in a flour sack from the Mellark bakery and she’d find a way to compliment it.

I want to look nice for Peeta. He’s the reason why my heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I smooth down my skirt nervously before I open the door to the living room. Peeta smiles when he sees me, and I look away, self-conscious of my dress and the make-up I’m wearing. “You look amazing, Katniss.” He kisses my cheek and his hand finds mine.

“You too.” It’s true. He looks handsome, wearing dark gray pants and a light blue shirt that almost matches his eyes.

My mother clears her throat and Peeta and I both snap out of whatever was going on between us. Peeta smiles nervously.

“You’re going to Madge’s house, right?” Mother asks. I nod in response, but don't speak. “Are her parents going to be home?”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to say with Mrs. Undersee’s headaches.” Since Madge is having the party in the first place, obviously she’s hoping her parents won’t be home.

I’m about to put on my shoes when I suddenly remember. “I almost forgot something,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

Safely inside my bedroom, I quickly open the drawer and find the paper bag. I swallow hard. There's no time to overthink this. I put two condoms into my purse.

Back in the living room, I feel as if everyone could see what I just did. The purse is burning in my hands, but I try to pretend as if nothing is out of the ordinary. It's not as if I’m planning to go further tonight. No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m not planning anything. I’m just… keeping my options open.

"Have fun," my mother says as she holds the door open for us. "But, not too much fun."

Peeta and I step out into the cold winter night, hand in hand. Peeta doesn’t say anything, which is unlike him. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he gives me a few stolen looks, his mouth opening and closing, as if he can’t make up his mind whether to say something. A few cobblestoned blocks later, when we approach the edge of the Seam, he finally speaks.

“I, uh… There’s something I wanted to say.” He clears his throat. “About last night.”

He stops, in the middle of the street. I step a bit closer to him. “What about last night?”

“I just wanted to ask you if you were okay with everything? Did we… Did I go too far, too fast?”

He looks so nervous that it makes me smile. “We didn't go too far,” I tell him, and his face breaks into a relieved smile, too. I think about the condoms in my purse. If he only knew what I’ve been thinking about. “I mean, what happened yesterday came as kind of a surprise, but I liked it.”

“Really? Because yesterday wasn’t quite how I…”

I cast a stolen look over his shoulder, noticing that there are quite a few people out on the streets, most of them are probably going to one party or the other. I don’t really feel comfortable talking about what happened last night here, where people could overhear us. I lean closer to him, silencing him with a kiss. A tingling sensation passes down through my spine, and I part my lips, allowing our tongues to meet. He runs his fingers through my hair, massaging the base of my neck under my wool hat with one hand while his other hand finds the small of my back, pressing me against him as we deepen the kiss.

We’re interrupted by the whistle of a wolf, and reluctantly, we part.

“We should probably talk about this later,” I mutter under my breath. “When we’re not in public.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

We keep walking, still hand in hand, and I'm aware of the looks we are getting. Some are merely curious, others are downright nasty. “I don’t know who’s worse,” I mutter under my breath. “The people from Town or the people from the Seam.” They have different reasons for disapproving of our relationship. The people from Town are bent out of shape because they think I’m below Peeta, and the people from the Seam are irritated because they think that _I_ think a Seam miner isn’t good enough for me. I bet they haven’t forgotten about my parents’ scandalous marriage, either.

Peeta shrugs. “Let's not worry about them, okay?”

“Does your mother know that we’ll be going to the party together?”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to worry?” I glare at him. “Yes, she does,” he admits.

“And?”

“And she was upset, but I told her it was none of her fucking business, and that I’ll go wherever I want to with my girlfriend.”

“You did?”

“Well, I left out the ‘fucking’ part.”

I can’t help but smile. “What about the girlfriend part?”

“Oh." We stop in the middle of the street again. "That part I definitely said."

 

 

**_Peeta_ **

Katniss studies the alarmingly high number of tracks in the snow leading up to the Undersees’ front door, a surprised look on her face. I’m not surprised, not after talking to Rye last night, but I do have a sinking feeling in my stomach. A drunk Seam girl I’ve never seen before opens the door to the Undersees’ house when we knock, and Katniss stares daggers at her. When we enter the hall, it’s clear that my suspicions from yesterday were not unfounded. There is nothing ‘small’ about this party. There are people _everywhere_. This is definitely not a shindig, it’s a disaster just waiting to happen.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch someone throwing up in a flowerpot, and I wonder if the disaster is actually happening as we speak.

“Katniss!” Madge shouts loudly as she makes her way through the crowd in the Undersees’ hall. The room is huge, and with its double stairs going up to the second floor, the hall alone is probably the size of an average Seam house. Still, it’s absolutely packed with people. “Peeeeeta!” She squeals. “You’re here too!” She’s holding a glass of something bright red and suspiciously Capitol-looking in her hand. Judging from the width of her smile and her somewhat unsteady walk, it’s not her first drink of the evening.

Katniss looks around, a look of shock on her face. “Does your father know you invited this many people?”

“I didn’t invite them!” She says, her eyes wide. “Well, I invited _some_ of them,” she admits when Katniss glares at her. “But then they had boyfriends, and girlfriends, and just friends, and I said, 'Sure! They can come too.' And then all these other people just started showing up. I’m not sure where they all came from. But it doesn’t matter, because _you’re_ here!” She squeals. “My favorite, favorite person in the whole _world_!”

Katniss narrows her eyes. “How drunk are you?”

“ _How_ drunk? That’s kind of hard do say.” She’s slurring slightly. “Do you measure being drunk on a scale? Like from one to ten? Or from one to…” She hiccups – “..six? Or from…”

“Nevermind,” Katniss sighs. “Where’s Gale?”

“I think he’s throwing out some people who were fighting.” She giggles. “He’s quite the knight in shining armor, isn’t he?”

Katniss rolls her eyes.

“What’s that sound?” I ask. The really, _really_ loud sound coming from the living room.

“It’s the TV. It’s a music channel from the Capitol. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say. I’m not really a fan of Capitol music. In fact, sometimes – like now – it’s hard to even tell it’s music at all. But this doesn’t seem like the right time to bring it up.

“The Mayor gets Capitol channels that the rest of us in 12 don’t get,” Katniss explains. More importantly, the Mayor gets electricity, too. The rest of the district is dark tonight, I guess most of the power in Panem is redirected to the Capitol for the New Year’s celebration there. But the Mayor and a few others, such as the peacekeepers, are still plugged in.

I take a look around. If the rest of the house is as packed as the hallway, at least half the people aged 15 to 25 from Town must be here. The crowd is overwhelmingly blond, but there are more than a few people from the Seam as well. Gale Hawthorne comes through a door, probably finished with his knight in shining armor mission, at least for now. His eyes instantly zoom in on us from across the room.

“Hi, Katniss. Peeta.” His voice is perfectly neutral, but he doesn’t look happy. I nod my head while Katniss mumbles a greeting and tightens her grip on my hand. I know it’s childish, but I feel a rush of something entirely selfish and not very sympathetic.

“Did you get rid of them?” Madge asks Gale. She doesn’t kiss him, she doesn’t even touch him. But she does stand very close to him. Certainly too close for being “just friends”. She tilts her head, giving Gale a good look at her sleek, pale throat as she looks up at him.

“Yeah,” he says. “The butcher’s son wasn’t happy, though. What’s his name? The second oldest one, the really annoying twit with the pig eyes?”

“Giles Hawkins,” I say. Gale’s description is spot on.

Gale snorts. “Yeah, figures _you’d_ know.” I frown and am about to ask him what exactly he means by that when he continues to speak. “I think that moron Townie he was fighting with broke his nose."

"What moron?" Katniss asks.

"Not really sure who he was, but he looked about as stupid as Pig Eyes."

"Was anyone hurt?" Katniss asks sternly.

"Pig Eyes’ nose didn’t look pretty, but he wasn't all that pretty to begin with anyway, so I guess it doesn’t really matter.” I have to agree with him there. Gale turns to Madge. “Look, Madge, this party is out of control. We have two choices here. We either end this right now and throw everyone out – if we can – or we have to go with it. It’s just the two of us – well, maybe four, including Katniss and Peeta, but even if we’re four, we can’t be everywhere.”

Madge takes a bottle of white liquor from Gale's hands and takes a swig while she looks around the room. “I’m not going to be able to hide this from my parents when they come home, am I?”

“No,” Katniss says emphatically. Gale shakes his head, too.

Madge sighs. “Alright, then. Let’s just try to have fun. I’ll deal with the fallout next year.” She hiccups. “There is one rule, though.”

“What's that?” Katniss asks.

"No fucking in the beds.” She makes a disgusted face. "I don't want random body fluids in any of the mattresses."

“Really?” Katniss says, wide-eyed. “People would actually do that?”

Gale sighs. “Yeah, they would,” he says, slowly and clearly as if he’s explaining something to a child, and Katniss scowls. I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. Yeah, I’m pretty sure they would, too. I bet some of them have already.

Gale and Madge hurry upstairs, probably to enforce the no fucking in the beds rule. Katniss shifts her weight nervously from one leg to the other, scowling as she surveys the room. I’ve seen that look before, at the Midwinter Dance. Now that I know her better, I know what it means; she’s considering running away. “Come on, let’s go get a drink and have fun,” I tell her.

“I thought this was going to be a small party,” she mutters under her breath. She cringes as we hear the sound of glass breaking from the next room. She peeks through the doorway. “Those were probably Mrs. Undersee’s crystal glasses,” she says, a worried look on her face.

“Yeah, well, apparently Madge thought it was going to be a small party, too. Until she started inviting more people, and they invited even more people, and…”

“You didn’t really seem surprised when we came here?”

I shrug. “It’s been known to happen before.” Word of a party travels fast in Town.

She scowls. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure. I heard that Rye was going to Madge’s party. And then I started wondering who else was going and then I-”

“Rye is here, too?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be here with his girlfriend, Myrtle. He said he’d really like to meet you.”

“But I’m not very good at _talking,_ and your brother…” She pauses. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

I draw her in for another kiss. I love being able to kiss her freely in public. My fingers tangle in her long, black hair, it’s so silky and lush between my fingers.

“You care about what my brother will think about you?” I ask her when our lips part and she nods. I smile softly; of course she cares. I care too. "You have nothing to worry about. Rye is cool. I’m sure he’s going to like you.”

“But he’s from the Town, and his girlfriend is, too.” She casts a quick glance over my shoulder, at the mostly blond crowd that surrounds us.

“The girlfriend he had two weeks ago was from the Seam. _And_ the one he had one month before that,” I say dryly. “Besides, I’m from Town too, and I like you. A _lot_. Right?”

“Right,” she mutters.

“So, try not to worry about it for tonight?" I won't pretend as though our differences don't matter, but we can't let them affect every interaction we have. "Let’s have fun, okay?” She nods somewhat reluctantly. I steer her towards the punch bowl and get us both a glass. The punch is red; the color is so vivid it must be artificial, and the sickeningly sweet taste just barely manages to mask the taste of white liquor.

Katniss grimaces. “What _is_ this?”

“Some Capitol stuff, I think, mixed with good, old fashioned District 12 white liquor. But if Madge’s mood is an indication, it does the job.”

Katniss laughs, for the first time since we arrived. “That’s true,” she admits.

“And if the punch _doesn’t_ do the job, I’ve got a bottle of my own as well.” I wink, producing a small bottle from the pocket of my coat. “Do you think you could hold it in your bag?”

“Oh, um… sure.” She looks a little flustered as her eyes dart down to her bag, and I wonder why. She accepts the bottle, but turns away from me when she opens the zipper and puts the bottle inside.

“I need to find a broom and get rid of the broken glass before someone gets hurt,” she says, when she turns back to me, her bag now safely over her shoulder. It sort of feels like she’s trying to change the subject, but I refill my glass while I wait for her to get back. 

 

**_Katniss_ **

If I felt out of place at the Midwinter dance, this party is a no different. I feel like a total, complete idiot. I was right about my dress – it’s hopelessly old-fashioned compared to what most of the girls are wearing. It’s too noisy in here, with all the people and the music and the talking. I’m terrible at small talk, and it’s even worse when I can barely hear what the other person is saying.

Peeta, however, blends in immediately. He seems to know every single person in the house, and he chats with everyone, seemingly oblivious to the looks we’re getting. Because Peeta takes care of the talking, I can mostly get away with trying not to scowl and answering “yes” or “no” when I get a direct question. Just when I start to think that maybe this isn’t so bad after all, Peeta has to go to the bathroom, and I’m left on my own for a few minutes. I try to look cool as I lean against the wall, sipping on the Capitol punch that's starting to taste better

Unexpectedly, Glenn Barker comes up to me. He’s a Merchant: blond, well-fed, and sure of himself - everything that I am not. I’ve never talked to him before, but I know he was a year ahead me in school. He casually leans against the wall too, but unlike me, he’s pretty good at looking cool. He smirks as his eyes travel up and down my body, giving me pause. What the hell? His small, round, blue eyes linger on my breasts just a little bit too long.

"Everdeen, you clean up nice.”

I blink my eyes in surprise. I didn’t even know that he knew my name. I have no idea how to respond to that. "What?"

He laughs, and I hate myself even more. “You’re turning into quite the party animal, aren’t you?”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously at him and he grins almost wolfishly at me. “Hardly,” I say. I wish he would just go away already. Where is Peeta? Why didn’t we stay at home tonight instead of going to this stupid party?

“I'm seeing you at two parties in two weeks? That’s a radical change from never, don’t you agree?”

“I guess.” I didn't even see him at the last one, but whatever. “Why would you notice?”

Glenn leans a little bit closer to me, and I can smell the white liquor on his breath. “Are you serious? Who wouldn't notice when the hottest girl in the Seam suddenly starts showing up at parties?" My complete and utter disgust must show on my face, because he starts grinning. "Don't be shy, baby."

I look away, searching the crowd for Peeta. “I'm not shy,” I say quietly, because it's true. I'm not shy, but I must be socially awkward because I'm ten seconds from beating the hell out of this guy, and I'm pretty sure that's not how ladies are supposed to behave.

“Let me know when Mellark is done with you.”

What the fuck? I open my mouth to answer when suddenly, Glenn is pressed against the wall. Peeta’s got him by the throat, partially lifting him from the ground. “What did you say to my girlfriend, Barker?”

“Oh, come on, Mellark. _Girlfriend_? Really?” Glenn struggles against Peeta's hold. “Is that what you call them now? What happened to _Seam_ _sl_...” Peeta tightens his grip on Glenn’s throat, and he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“That's what _you_ called them,” Peeta says, his voice very steady. “And if you say one more word, I’ll remind you how I won every wrestling match we had.” Glenn’s eyes dart to the floor. “Get the fuck out of here before I beat the crap out of you.”

The room is suddenly quiet, aside from the annoying Capitol music. Everyone’s stopped talking and is looking at us. Peeta releases his hold on Glenn and he quickly retreats into the crowd. There’s a long silence. It’s almost as uncomfortable as when I sung at the Midwinter dance. Everyone is _looking_ at me. Peeta is holding on to my hand though, so this time, I can’t run away.

It’s Rye who saves us. I’m not quite sure where he came from, maybe he heard the commotion. “This calls for a celebration,” he shouts. “That guy is one of the biggest douchebags in Twelve! Good Riddance!” Rye hands me a half empty bottle of white liquor. I've probably had more than enough already, but still I take a small mouthful, and then I hand the bottle to Peeta. He takes a much bigger swig.

“I’m Rye." Rye extends his hand.

“Katniss.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with Barker,” Rye says. “He’s a jerk.”

“I guess,” I mutter.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Rye smiles. “Peeta promised he’d introduce us tonight.”

“Did you just get here?” Peeta asks.

“No, Myrtle and I have been here for a while.”

“Why didn’t I see you until now?”

“We’ve been busy.” Rye winks, and looks up the stairs. Peeta rolls his eyes, and I bite my bottom lip as I understand just why Peeta couldn’t find his brother. I discreetly wipe my hand against the skirt of my dress. I really hope he washed his hands _after_.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, trying to change the subject. “I mean, I saw you around at school, obviously.” It was impossible to miss Rye. He was the most popular guy in his year, maybe even in the entire school.

“Yeah, I saw you around at school, too.” Beside me, Peeta sounds like he's choking on his drink. I turn to see if he's okay, but he's just glaring at Rye over the lip of his cup. Rye ignores him.

Before I can respond, a pretty, blonde girl sneaks her hand around Rye’s waist. She’s wearing a little black dress with some purple feather stuff on it. It definitely doesn’t come from her mother’s closet, like mine. “Katniss, meet Myrtle, my girlfriend.” Rye smiles proudly.

“Nice to meet you,” Myrtle says. She sizes me up, just like Glenn Barker did. Except it doesn’t seem like Myrtle approves of what she sees. “I love your dress, where did you get it?”

"Oh, um, it was my Mom's."

"Retro!" Her lips curl up in what I guess what is supposed to be a smile. "So adorable."

Bitch.

“Thanks,” I answer. “Retro is the new big thing in the Capitol.” I don’t really know where that came from. I mean, I did hear Madge talk about how retro is all the rage in the Capitol this winter, but I really don’t think District 12 retro will ever make it into Capitol fashion magazines.

My words seem to work, though, because for a split second, Myrtle can’t quite hide her shock. Then she slips back into her part, and smiles sweetly. “Yes, I know.”

“I love your dress, too.” I smile innocently. Her dress is way too short, the color doesn’t go well with her skin tone at all, and that purple feather stuff looks like someone took a long-dead bird, ruffled it up a bit and dyed it purple before they sewed it to her dress. I have to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing when I see the look on her face, as if her drink is really sour. Sometimes being a terrible actress appears to work in my favor.

Peeta and Rye seem to be completely unaware of what’s going on between us though. “So what do you think about the party?” Rye asks me.

“Um, it’s interesting,” I say. “Are parties in Town always like this?”

“Well, this is a pretty big party,” Myrtle says, talking to me almost as if I’m ten. I really don’t like her. Fortunately, Rye is probably going to dump her soon. “Which is probably not surprising, what with the Undersees having the biggest house in the district.”

“More room for drunk people,” Rye agrees.

“And there are more people from the Seam here than usual,” Myrtle continues. Her voice is perfectly neutral. But I have a distinct suspicion she doesn’t think that’s a good thing.

“Well, of course. Madge Undersee is fucking Gale Hawthorne,” Rye says.

“Rye!” Myrtle objects.

“Fine, Madge Undersee is _seeing_ Gale Hawthorne,” Rye corrects himself, rolling his eyes. Myrtle doesn't seem to think the word 'seeing' is an improvement though. “And along with Hawthorne comes an influx of miners. Right?” He winks to me.

“I guess.” I don’t know Gale’s friends from work.

Not far away from us, a boy I think used to be two years behind me in school is throwing up in a corner, the second person I’ve seen puking at this party. If I were Mrs. Undersee, I’d probably want this place sanitized tomorrow morning. “I guess parties aren’t really that different here,” I say dryly. 

“No, they aren’t,” Peeta chuckles. He meets my eyes, and I hope he's thinking about the same thing I am: that night out in the snow, with his coat around my shoulders. Was it really less than two weeks ago? He already has a hand on my shoulder and he pulls me even closer. His body is so warm, and his eyes are so impossibly blue. I lick my lips, anticipating another kiss.

We’re interrupted by Rye’s clearing his throat. “Well, lovebirds. I’d suggest you’d get a room, but they’re all taken.” He winks. Rye and Myrtle must’ve gone downstairs before Madge and Gale started throwing people out of the bedrooms. “Besides, the doors don't lock in this house, so there’s not much privacy.” Myrtle blushes. I have to stifle a laugh. I'll bet someone walked in on them.

The reason why the doors don't lock in the house is _not_ funny, though. Mrs. Undersee took an overdose of painkillers four years ago. Whether it was intentional remains unclear. Either way, she barely survived. She had locked herself in the bathroom, and it took Mr. Undersee too long to get in. After that, he disabled the locks in every room, save the one for his office.

“Seriously though, it’s worth it,” Rye grins.

Peeta and I both shift uneasily, and my eyes dart to the floor. “Rye, you’re embarrassing them,” Myrtle says, and I’m not sure if she’s making fun of us, or if she’s actually is trying to help us.

“Sorry,” Rye laughs. “I'm just proud my little brother finally has a girlfriend.” Peeta groans out loud. “I always thought you’d end up with someone who was nice, but boring, like Delly Cartwright. This will make for some _very_ interesting family dinners.” Rye’s slurring slightly. He’s definitely been drinking.

“Delly?” What does Delly have to do with this?

“It’s nothing,” Peeta shrugs. “Our mother tried to set me up with Delly last year, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Apparently no one has told Peeta’s mother that Delly Cartwright prefers the company of girls. A scandal which is much bigger than a boy from Town dating a girl from the Seam.

“Yeah, I know. Awkward. Fortunately, Delly took it well.”

“Actually, Delly’s here with her new girlfriend,” Myrtle says easily. “So if you did invite Delly to a family dinner, it would be anything but boring.”

“Mother would have a heart attack,” Rye agrees.

Around us, the party has returned to normal surprisingly quickly after the incident with Glenn Barker, and now it's even louder than it was before. We talk for a while. Myrtle is touching Rye a lot, but she becomes less hostile towards me. I find that Rye is very much like Peeta – easy to talk to – but with a humor that is edgier than Peeta's. He’s also a lot drunker.

“Did Peeta tell you about the time we broke into Haymitch’s house in the Victors’ Village?” he asks me.

My jaw drops I'm surprise. “You broke into Haymitch’s house?” I gasp. “Why? What happened?”

“It was a dare,” Peeta admits somewhat sheepishly. “I think I was 13 or something?” Rye nods. “Some of Rye’s idiot friends dared him to break into Haymitch’s house and steal a bottle of white liquor as proof we’d actually been inside the house.”

“That’s crazy,” I say.

“Yeah. Anyway, Rye said he wouldn't do it alone…”

“You're such a liar,” Rye corrects him. “I said I’d appreciate your company.”

“Whatever.” Peeta rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we skipped school and went there during the day, when we thought Haymitch was in the Hob.”

“And?”

“Haymitch wasn’t in the Hob,” Rye says. “He had passed out at the kitchen table.”

“Oh no.”

“You two are crazy,” Myrtle laughs.

“The worst part is he woke up.” Rye takes a swig of white liquor from Peeta’s bottle. “That old fucker is insane, I tell you. It was like he was back in the arena or something. He chased after us with a _knife_. I don’t know where he got the knife from so quickly, maybe he sleeps with it? We barely made it outside.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Peeta was so scared he wet himself.”

“I did not!”

Rye laughs. “Yeah you did.”

“I’ve met Haymitch in the Hob,” I say. “For some reason he always calls me ‘sweetheart’.” I snort. “I’m surprised he’s still alive, with all the white liquor he’s drinking.”

“You _talk_ to him?” Rye asks.

“Yeah. I sell him squirrels sometimes – he says they remind him of home.”

“Why would squirrels remind him of home? He lives in the Victors’ Village,” Rye says.

“But he grew up in the Seam," I correct. "Maybe he remembers, even though it's been a while.”

“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” Peeta says. “He has all these opportunities that no one else in 12 has, but he just wastes them being drunk all the time.”

Myrtle nods her head in agreement and then leans against Rye.

I do agree that it’s sad, but I’m not sure whether Haymitch agrees that he has a lot of opportunities. He's never seemed the least bit grateful to the Capitol. Instead, I have the distinct feeling that he drinks to forget. With the number of tributes he’s lost over the years, I can’t really blame him for preferring to stay unconscious.

“He might have more money than he can spend, but I'll bet it's lonely in the Victors’ Village,” Rye says. “Not that I would mind having a huge house all to myself, though. Plenty of bedrooms.” He winks.

By now Peeta and I have both emptied our glasses of sticky sweet Capitol punch, and we have moved on to sharing the bottle of white liquor Peeta brought with him. The alcohol makes me more talkative than usual and slightly dizzy. I should really slow down my drinking. Peeta’s arm around my waist is warm, and I sink closer into his body, feeling his chest move when he laughs. I lose track of the conversation because I’m too busy staring at Peeta’s eyelashes.

“Katniss?” I blink. “Katniss,” Peeta laughs quietly. “Let’s go to the kitchen to see if there are any snacks left. I’m hungry.” Snacks? This party really is different from the Midwinter Dance. Another difference is that Townies seem to enjoy dancing on the dining room table, I notice. With their shoes on. I have a feeling Mrs. Undersee isn’t going to like that, not one bit.

Peeta takes my hand, but instead of going to the kitchen, he pulls me close and kisses me. I taste the liquor on him, but it’s not unpleasant. His body so close to mine is making my head spin, in addition to the obvious effects of the alcohol.

I don’t care who’s looking at us.

“I’m hungry too,” I murmur after he releases my lips. His pupils dilate, and I think a moan escapes his lips when I say the word ‘hungry,' although I could be wrong. “Let’s see if we can find those snacks.”

He hesitates slightly before he smiles. “Yeah, let’s go.” He puts his arm around my waist, his fingers resting lightly on my hip. It feels like his fingertips are burning through the fabric of my dress.

We turn around a corner, into a hallway leading to the kitchen. Not surprisingly, a couple is making out here too. I can’t really see much, thankfully, because the man is turned away from us and his broad back shields the girl from view, but it looks like he’s pressing her up against the wall. Her legs, the only visible parts of her from our angle, are around his waist. I try not to look directly at them, this is awkward enough already, I just want to pass by them so I can get to the snacks. But I really, _really_ hope there are still at least a couple of layers of clothing between their… well… I hope that they’re not actually fucking here in the hallway. I know Madge said 'no fucking in the beds' upstairs, but that doesn’t mean people should start doing it in the hallway instead. Gale is right, this party is definitely out of control.

There's an all too familiar voice softly moaning an all too familiar name.

“Oh, Gale! Don’t stop!”

I freeze and can’t keep back a surprised gasp.

 _Oh no_.


	6. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Katniss! To celebrate, her birthday, here's the second half of chapter five.  
> I'm sorry it's taken me ages to update - RL etc. To at least partly make up for the long wait, the chapter is almost ridiculously long at 11k words - and it's smutty, too! Yay! 
> 
> Thank you so much to Chelzie for prereading!

**_Katniss_ **

 “ _Madge_?” I gasp.

When they hear my voice, Madge and Gale abruptly end their kiss and stare at Peeta and me with wide eyes. Madge’s legs are still wrapped around Gale’s waist, his body holding hers pressed up against the wall.

Crap. I should just have closed my eyes and walked right past them instead. Chances are neither Madge nor Gale would even have noticed us if I had. After all, they seemed pretty oblivious to their surroundings until I was stupid enough to open my mouth.

Gale’s eyes flicker from me to Peeta, and back to me again. Madge clearly notices. Something passes over her face, but I’m not quite sure what. Gale takes a small step back, and there’s a brief moment of confusion because Madge is unaware; she nearly falls down  since Gale’s body is no longer holding her up. Fortunately, he catches her in time. Madge’s feet finally find the floor and she regains her balance.

There’s a long, awkward silence. Madge adjusts her dress and makes sure her skirt is once again decent, and Gale runs his hand through his hair. His face and jaw are clenched, with narrowed eyes fixed on Peeta.

I’ve mostly relied on Peeta’s conversational skills tonight, a skillset I myself absolutely do not have. But now, Peeta seems to be locked in some kind of staring contest with Gale, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to save the situation. And who knows what Madge, who is most likely by far the drunkest of all, will say if I give her the chance. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, just to say something – _anything_ \- to break the silence. “Madge, some people were dancing on the dining room table, with their shoes on.”

I’m not sure whether reminding Madge about her out of control party is going to make things better or worse. Gale’s face darkens even further at my words, but Madge doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh shit! Are you serious?”   

“Yeah.”

Madge mutters a series of words under her breath that I’m sure her mother has never heard her say. She runs - somewhat unsteadily - to the dining table’s rescue, leaving me alone in the hallway with Gale and Peeta. I hear her yelling at the table dancers in the other room, demanding that they ‘get the fuck down from there’.

“I really appreciate you helping Madge keep this party under control tonight,” Peeta says to Gale.

I know Peeta probably means well. And honestly, I’m surprised that Gale has stuck by Madge’s side all night, too. I used to think that Gale and Madge were fucking and nothing more, but now I have no idea what they actually are to each other. Still, there’s no way I’d ever broach the subject of their relationship with Gale, not with the way Gale has been looking at us.

Gale narrows his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asks, his voice dangerously low.

Peeta looks startled by Gale’s response for a second before he quickly composes himself. “No, of course not,” Peeta answers, which must be a lie, and I’m pretty sure Gale sees through it, too.

“I’m not like Madge’s Townie ‘friends’, who are all going to run off the second her parents return,” Gale says, crossing his arms over his chest. He straightens his back, as if to emphasize their height difference, and looks down at Peeta.  

“Oh yeah?” Peeta raises an eyebrow.

Gale shrugs. “When the going gets tough, Townies have a tendency to take off.”

Peeta snorts. “If you have a problem with me, why don’t you just say so?”

“Who said I have a problem with _you_?”

Peeta opens his mouth to answer when Madge returns. “I think the mahogany table is going to be okay once it’s cleaned and polished,” she says, slightly out of breath and seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room and the conversation she just interrupted. “But Mom and Dad are definitely going to notice. Oh, and it looks like someone vomited into Mom’s flower pots, too.” She makes a disgusted face.

“Yeah, we know,” Peeta admits.

“You knew about the flower pots and didn’t tell me?” Madge gasps.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “It just didn’t seem like your biggest problem right now.”

“I guess you’re right, but… Ugh. It’s still disgusting.” Madge wrinkles her nose, then sighs. “Oh well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll be screwed in the morning anyway.” I freeze, and feel Peeta’s fingers squeeze harder around my hand. Gale looks down at the floor.  

When Madge realizes what she just said, she covers her mouth with her hand, giggling almost hysterically. Peeta looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh, but manages to stay serious. I, on the other hand, don’t think this is funny at all. I wish more fervently than ever that I’d just kept my mouth shut, and Gale actually _blushes_. I’ve never seen him blush before. “What I _meant_ ,” Madge says when she’s finally able to speak again, “is that _my parents are going to kill me_.” She whispers the words conspiratorially. As if there’s any point in even attempting to hide this disaster of a ‘shindig’.

“This is probably the last party you’ll _ever_ be hosting,” Gale admits.

“I think so too,” Peeta agrees. He slips his arm around my waist. Gale notices, because he sends Peeta the hostile glare which until now has always been reserved for kids who were picking on his younger brothers. No bullies ever dared to bother Vick or Rory again after having been stared down by Gale.

“So… you and Katniss, huh?” Gale says to Peeta. His voice is cold.

“Yeah. Me and Katniss.” Peeta stands his ground. He doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Gale’s ridiculous alpha male tactics.

“You’d better treat her well,” Gale all but growls.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Gale,” I hiss. How dare he talk about me as if I’m not even present?

“She is,” Peeta agrees. He smiles proudly at me, his body swaying even closer to mine. I suspect he’s doing it on purpose to piss off Gale. Maybe that’s why he slipped his arm around my waist, too. “Which you of all people should know.”

“I know Katniss can feed her family and defend herself against wild d…” Gale abruptly stops. He knows as well as I do that the Undersee’s house is probably bugged, and saying I’ve fought wild dogs is practically admitting I’ve been outside the fence. “But I’m not so sure if she has any defense against silver-tongued Town boys,” he continues.

“Gale!” I object angrily.

Madge rolls her eyes. “Peeta is right, Gale. Besides, there’s nothing either of you can do to protect her from _real_ harm anyway.”

I blink in surprise. Maybe she’s even drunker than I thought. We all know that like everyone else in 12, the one thing I _really_ need protection from is the Capitol. Despite taking out tesserae, I beat the odds and didn’t end up being slaughtered in the Hunger Games. I may be past reaping age now, but the Capitol still controls my life. I’m even more vulnerable than most people in 12 because I make a living by hunting illegally. If the Peacekeepers change their minds about turning a blind eye and I’m caught, neither Gale nor Peeta can do anything to save me from the whipping post – or worse. But to say it out loud, here…

Madge smiles to me, ignoring the guys completely. “Katniss, why don’t we go powder our noses and get another drink? All this testosterone in the air is making me thirsty.”

It’s not as if I have any powder, and I don’t really think Madge needs another drink. But I’d do pretty much anything not to be in the same room as Gale _and_ Peeta right now, so I immediately agree.  

“I’m sh-sorry Gale behaved like such an asshole,” Madge says as soon as we’re out of earshot. She’s slurring slightly, but other than that, she seems less drunk than I’d thought.

I shrug. “It’s not your fault.” I’m not quite sure what to think of Gale’s behavior when he saw me with Peeta. Madge and Gale insist that they aren’t together. But Madge did seem to be bothered by Gale’s apparent thinking that he has a say in my life – didn’t she? Or maybe she would say the same thing to any guy who made sexist remarks to her friend? I have no idea.

And Gale _has_ sort of acted like Madge’s boyfriend tonight.

“Yeah, well. _Men_ ,” she snorts, thrusting another glass of sticky Capitol punch in my hand. It definitely tastes better now than the first glass did. She even adds some more white liquor directly to our glasses, as if our drinks need to be any stronger than they already are. “This is Capitol punch, District 12 style,” she winks. “Now let’s go powder.”

It turns out there is no actual powdering involved, only peeing and drunken giggling.  Delly and her girlfriend Violet watch the door so no one walks in on us. The Undersee household’s no locks rule includes the bathrooms too.

“I really hope Delly and Violet are actually keeping an eye on the door and not just making out,” I say worriedly as I pee, while Madge washes her hands.

Madge laughs. “Well, I hope so too, because if they are making out, I bet at least half of the guys at the party will be rushing in here to jerk off after staring at them.”

“Really?” I grimace. “They’d actually _do_ that?” I wash my hands, too.

“What, stare at two girls kissing? Or jerk off afterwards?”

“Both, I guess. It’s kind of… rude.”

“Oh, Katniss,” Madge giggles. “You’re adorable.” She hiccups. “Yeah, they totally would.”  

I go through my handbag looking for the lipstick Prim gave me for Christmas last year, which I thought was the most useless gift ever at the time. Something catches Madge’s attention and she gasps in surprise. “Katniss!” she squeals. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Shhhh!” I say, hoping Delly and Violet won’t hear anything on the other side of the door.

She snatches the silvery condoms from my purse. She stares at me with wide eyes. “Katniss, are you two… have you…?” Thankfully, she lowers her voice.

“No!” I quickly say, putting the condoms back into the handbag. “I haven’t… I mean, we haven’t. I just, um… Mother gave them to me. Just to be safe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been an awkward conversation,” she laughs.

“You have no idea,” I mutter.

“And do you always walk around with condoms, or did you just happen to think it would be a good idea to bring them tonight?” She winks. Ugh. Even though Madge is drunk, she sees right through me.

“Just to be on the safe side,” I defend myself. “Besides, I had no idea that half of the district would be here.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” She pauses. “So… I guess that means you’re thinking about doing it? Because if half of the district _hadn’t_ been here…?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I look at her helplessly. “I don’t know. I really like Peeta, and…” My voice trails off.

“Peeta’s a great guy,” Madge says. “We’re almost neighbors, and I’ve known him since we were both in diapers.” She takes a sip of the sickly sweet punch. She’s still swaying slightly, but her voice is more or less clear. “He’s crazy about you. The way he looks at you… Everyone can see it. Gale, too. He’s just being a dick to piss you off.”

“Men,” I mutter.

“Men,” she agrees emphatically.

Madge digs through her own handbag and produces a golden key. “Here,” she says, thrusting it into my hand.

“Where did you get it?” I ask. Aside from the Mayor’s key to his office, which he always keeps in his pocket, this is the first key I’ve seen in the Undersee household since Mrs. Undersee almost died.

“Dad doesn’t know I found out years ago where he keeps the spare key to his office,” she answers.

“But why would I need the key to your father’s office?”

Madge’s smile widens. “I thought perhaps you and Peeta would appreciate some privacy?”

“In the Mayor’s office?” I furrow my brow.

“I can assure you that fucking on the Mayor’s desk is a _lot_ of fun.”

“Madge!” I gasp. “Have you… Have you actually _done_ that?”

She giggles. “Yes. But I do recommend doing it in a bed instead of on a desk if it’s your first time. Luckily, there’s a spare bed in the room next to Dad’s office. There’s a connecting door between them, so the room next to his office is always locked, too. I think it used to be a sort of guest room, but no one ever uses it. The key works in both locks.”

It’s starting to dawn on me what she means. “So…”

“So with this key,” she closes my fingers around it, “you can get into that room, too. If you want to.”

I swallow. “Thanks,” I tell her and stuff the key in my purse.

She hiccups, and gives me a hug – a drunken, sloppy one. I’m not used to Madge, or anyone else besides Prim and now Peeta, hugging me. To my surprise, she has tears in her eyes when she releases me. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, as if she can’t quite make up her mind whether or not she should say something. “Gale’s still in love with you, you know,” she finally says.

“Oh, Madge…” I have no idea how to answer. There’s a lump in my throat, too.

She shrugs, but her eyes are still moist. “It’s okay, Katniss. Gale and I aren’t… we aren’t _together_ like that. We’re just fooling around. And I know you don’t feel the same way about Gale that you do about Peeta.”

I can’t really talk about what I feel for Peeta. It’s too big and too new to put into words. So instead, I ask about her. “What about you? Are you in love with Gale?”

“Eh, I dunno.” She empties her glass of punch and grimaces. “I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway. My parents want me to marry the son of the Mayor in 1.”

“Really?” I’m surprised she’s never told me about this. Arranged marriages are very rare in the Seam, but they are relatively common in Town, where families have trades and businesses to pass on to the next generation. But a boy from another district? Most people have never even _met_ anyone from another district. But of course, most people aren’t the Mayor’s only daughter.

Madge snorts. “I met him this summer. Remember our vacation to 1?” I nod. “I should’ve known there was a reason why we suddenly went on vacation to another district for the first time.” Madge has visited the Capitol a few times with her father. She’s the only person my age I know who has. “He’s the most boring person I’ve ever met. All he talked about was working out, and how a knee injury prevented him from volunteering for the Hunger Games the year he turned 18.” She snorts. “As if he’d have the guts to actually do that. I bet his injury was faked.”

“So… if you’re going to marry that guy, why are you with Gale?”

“Well, _I_ haven’t agreed to marry anyone. Mom and Dad can’t force me to marry that moron, because I have to actually say ‘I do.’ So that’s where things stand at the moment.” A smile plays on her lips now, and she winks. “But Gale is anything but boring. He is dark and handsome, rebellious, and somewhat mysterious. Perhaps that’s just what I need in my life, an element of danger and excitement. Someone who can fuck me real good on my Daddy’s desk – the same desk he uses to write letters to find his only daughter a wealthy husband from a career district.” She laughs, but I don’t.

I see Madge almost every day, and still had no idea of her parents’ plans. I feel sick to my stomach, and not just because I’ve had too much punch. I wonder if Madge is with Gale as an escape – or maybe she is using him to destroy her reputation? Is she hoping that having a relationship with a miner will make her less desirable as the future wife of the District 1 mayor’s son?

“So if you marry that guy, are you going to move to 1?” I hesitatingly ask her.

Madge shrugs. “I guess. I can’t imagine he’d ever consider moving to 12. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

I swallow. “I really hope you find a way to get out of it.” 

“Well, _I_ just hope my parents won’t kill me in the morning.”

This time, I’m the one who hugs her. “I hope so, too. And if your father asks, I left the party early, okay?” I blink my tears away and try to laugh. “Way before someone broke your mother’s favorite crystal glasses.”

“What the hell? Someone actually _did_ that?”

“Yes, they did.”

She sighs. “I need another drink.”

She doesn’t. But we both get one anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Peeta_ **

After the girls leave, there’s a long and extremely uncomfortable silence.

Gale and I are both standing in the narrow hallway. I take another mouthful of white liquor while I wait for him to say something. After all, Gale is the one who has a problem, not me. He clenches his fists. Is he considering beating the crap out of me? I wouldn’t put it past him, not with the way he was staring at Katniss and me earlier.

Finally, he spits out, “If you knock her up and leave her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

I blink in surprise. Where the fuck did _that_ come from? “Um… what?”

“You heard me.” His gray eyes, so similar to Katniss’s, are hard and unforgiving. “You’re Town.”

“Not all Town boys are out to fuck girls on the slag heap,” I answer. Warning me not to knock Katniss up is pretty rich, especially coming from Gale Hawthorne. Everyone knows he’s been fucking girls on the slag heap for years. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t gotten anyone pregnant yet, at least as far as I know.

“You say that now, and sure, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Actually, the way you’ve looked at her for _years_.”

I smile innocently. “It takes one to know one, right?”

Gale’s knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists. He gulps down some more white liquor. I hope drinking isn’t his usual way of dealing with problems, because drowning your sorrows in alcohol is really not a good idea. Just look at Haymitch Abernathy.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” he finally says, ignoring what I just said. “I guess everyone in 12 knew but Katniss herself.” He rolls his eyes. “She’s always been too oblivious to notice anything that’s not related to Prim or putting food on the table. Anyway, I don’t care how the fuck you finally got her to notice you, but I do care about how devastated she’s going to be when you to hurt her.”

“I’d never hurt Katniss.”

Gale actually laughs. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But what happens when your Mama, who everyone in 12 knows controls your entire household, says you have to marry a nice Town girl and have beautiful blue-eyed children?” Damn. Gale is more perceptive than I’d thought. Not that I’d ever be pressured into marrying someone, not after almost two decades of witnessing up close the disaster that is my parents’ marriage, but still… There’s no question that Mother is definitely our biggest obstacle. Gale chuckles. “Hit a nerve there, didn’t I?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter.

Gale glares at me. “Remember what I said, Mellark. I _will_ kill you.” He takes another mouthful from his glass bottle.

I’ve had enough. “And _you_ should remember that Katniss is smart, she’s strong, and she’s perfectly capable of choosing who she wants to be with,” I say. Gale’s eyes darken, and he looks as if he’s seriously considering beating the crap out of me. Even though I’m one of the best wrestlers in 12, he’s a lot bigger than me, and he just might manage to beat me up if he set his mind to it. “So stop worrying about Katniss. Like she said, she can take care of herself. If I were you, I’d focus on the situation you’ve got on your hands with Madge.”

He laughs. “That’s none of your business, Mellark.”

“Madge is my friend, just like you’re Katniss’s friend.” I choose to ignore the obvious difference between us – I’ve never seen Madge as anything but a friend, but Gale has clearly been interested in Katniss in the past, and I suspect he still is. “And you seem to think that your friendship with Katniss gives you the right to interfere with our relationship. Right?” Gale doesn’t answer. “So from what I understand, you and Madge are just having fun. Correct?”

Gale shrugs. “Sure. And we’re both on the same page about that, so I don’t really see the problem.”

“Oh, there isn’t one – at least not until it stops being _just fun_ for one of you. I used to think that you seemed to be paying a little too much attention to my _girlfriend_ to actually be serious with another girl, but I don’t quite know what to think anymore. You’ve been acting like you’re Madge’s boyfriend all night, haven’t you?” Gale doesn’t answer, he just glares at me. “And Madge? I’m not so sure about her, either. From what Katniss has told me, she’s talking an awful lot about you for someone who’s just _having fun_ with a miner.”

There’s a long silence. “Why don’t we just agree to stay out of each other’s lives, Mellark?”

“Sounds like an excellent idea to me, Hawthorne.”

Gale leaves without saying another word.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Katniss_ **

Madge and I have finished “powdering”, and find that there’s quite a line outside the bathroom. Not guys who are staring at Delly and Violet making out, because they’re not, but mainly girls who really need to pee.

Delly has a bottle of liquor she’s stolen from her parents, and she is more than willing to share it with us. I’ve had more than enough, so I only take very small sips. The liquor still burns down my throat, but not nearly as much as it did earlier tonight.

We chat with Delly and Violet for quite a while. Well, the other three do most of the chatting, really. Even though Delly is definitely not the kind of person I usually spend time with – she’s way too sunny and chatty, everything that I’m not – it’s hard to actually dislike her. She’s just too…. _Nice_. Predictably, she loves my dress, she thinks that Peeta and I are _so cute_ together, and she admires me _so much_ for my… profession. If I hadn’t known that Delly is like this with everyone, I’d think she were my biggest fan.

I’ve never talked to Violet before, though. She’s a year older than me, so we were never in any of the same classes, and we didn’t have any friends in common. In fact, if I remember correctly, Violet was a bit of a loner, like me. Now that I think about it, I think it may partially be because everyone thought she was into girls, which turned out to be true. I can’t help but secretly admire them both. If I thought it was hard to come here with Peeta tonight, it must be nothing compared to what it’s like for Delly and Violet.

Violet turns out to be quite nice, and she’s certainly a lot friendlier than Myrtle. Thankfully Violet’s a bit more of the quiet type than Delly, because I’m not sure if I could handle two Delly’s at the same time.  

Delly is in the middle of a long story about how much she loves winter (seriously, is there anything in Panem she _doesn’t_ like?) when I hear a familiar sound from the dining room. Uh-oh.

“Sounds like there’s more glass breaking,” I tell Madge.

“Oh no! I have to go yell at them again.” I roll my eyes. As if that will help for more than ten seconds. Madge gives me a sloppy, drunken kiss on the cheek and tells me that she _looooves_ me, and then she’s off. At least she’s going in the general direction of the dining room, even though she’s not exactly walking in a straight line. I suppose that’s something.

I’m so glad I’m not Madge right now. Tomorrow is going to be brutal in more ways than one.

I talk to Delly and Violet for a few more minutes – well, Delly does most of the talking – and then decide to go searching for Peeta. He’s not in the hallway where I left him and Gale earlier, and it takes me a while to locate him. As it gets closer to midnight, people are getting drunker. It also seems like more people are arriving, because it wasn’t this full before Madge and I went to the bathroom – or was it? I finally locate him in the living room, talking to two of our former classmates. Peeta was friends with them in school, but I wasn’t. Peeta’s not sporting a black eye or a broken nose after his talk with Gale, which I suppose is a good sign.

Peeta lights up when he sees me. “There you are, Katniss.” His slips his arm around my waist again. He feels so warm, it’s as if his body is on fire. “What took you so long?”

“Madge and I had some more punch, and then we talked with Delly and Violet,” I explain. I can’t tell him about the key, not here.

He leans in and kisses me. “I can taste the punch on you.” He kisses me again – deeper and longer this time. I should be mortified at this public display of affection, right in front of his friends, but he’s so warm and so close, and I’m feeling slightly dizzy, which I think has more to do with _him_ than with the alcohol. My arms encircle his neck; one hand goes up to the back of his head, pulling him even closer to me. His body feels large and hard against my smaller, softer one, and as our kiss deepens, it’s as if the fire spreads from him to me.

I feel it again, deep in my belly. The same throbbing between my legs that I felt when we were alone in my bedroom.

I feel _it_ too, against my belly. His cock is not as hard as it was yesterday, but when I hear the stifled groan that escapes him, I realize it probably will be soon if we keep this up. A rush of power surges through me, that I can have this effect on him.

“Get a room,” one of Peeta’s friends laughs, and when I briefly open my eyes, I see from the corner of my eye that they’re leaving. We’ve become just like the couples I detested at the Midwinter Dance, I realize. Morons whose public displays of affection most people, myself included, found nauseating.

It’s funny how quickly things change.

I tear my mouth away from his. I blink, trying to focus on his face, but he’s so close, and everything is a bit fuzzy. His pupils are so dilated, I can barely see the blue of his irises around them. “Why don’t we?” I whisper in his ear.

“Why don’t we what?” Peeta’s voice is raspy.

“Why don’t we get a room?”

His jaw drops as he takes in what I just said, and his eyes darken. “ _Oh_ ,” he finally says. “But I thought Madge said no, um…”

‘No fucking in the beds.’ He just can’t bring himself to say the words, not when it’s about _us_. But he doesn’t know about the key Madge gave me.

“Don’t worry about it. Come.”

He nods, and I grab his hand. Without a word, we go upstairs. Even though it’s nowhere near as crowded as downstairs, there are still people up here. Couples only. People go up here to do one thing and one thing only, and that’s to make out. I swallow. I was hoping no one would see us up here. Dammit Madge, how could you allow this so-called shindig to get this badly out of hand?

I study the many doors in the long corridor. I know where Mr. Undersee’s office is, of course, but which door is the one to the guest room Madge talked about? To the left or to the right of the Mayor’s office? All of the doors look the same.

There is only one way to find out. I try the door to the left, but it must be the wrong one, because it’s not locked. I quickly close it again.  

“If you value your life, Mellark, you’ll stay out of that room,” a red-haired boy says. He’s making out with a girl who’s a year younger than me that lives a few houses down from us. “Hawthorne was up here a while ago and threw everyone out of the bedrooms. And if he threatened _us_ with bodily harm, just imagine what he’d do to _you_.”

He sends me a look and laughs, and so does the girl. Ugh. It seems like the entire district has been _assuming_ things about me and Gale for ages.

“Actually, Madge sent us up here to make sure no one’s violating the no fucking in the beds rule,” Peeta lies smoothly.

I open my handbag, my fingers closing around the key. It must be the door to the right, then.

Peeta’s eyes widen when sees the key. “Where did you get that?” he whispers.

“Madge.”

I insert the key into the keyhole, and immediately feel that unlike the rest of the doors in this house, the lock isn’t disabled. A distinct click tells me the door is now unlocked, and I quickly open it. We both slip inside, and behind us I hear the boy shout: “Hey, Everdeen has a key! Where did you get that key?! Hey!”

I immediately lock the door behind us, my heart pounding and my cheeks burning with shame.

Of course that boy and the girl he’s making out with know what we’re going to do in here. I bet they’ll tell the others, too. Rumors travel fast in 12. _Everyone’s_ going to be talking about this tomorrow.

This party is going to be on everyone’s lips tomorrow anyway for a myriad of reasons. And I can’t help but think that maybe for the first time in my life, I’m doing what everyone else is doing.

“So that’s what you two talked about for so long,” Peeta says, his voice low so they can’t hear him through the door. He looks at the key, still in the lock after I locked the door behind us. Someone is swearing outside, probably the same guy. Whatever.

“Yeah, that among other things. It was awkward,” I admit.

“Not as awkward as my talk with Gale, I’m sure,” he groans.

I can’t help but laugh. “I guess you’re right. What did he say to you?”

Peeta hesitates. “He, uh… threatened to do some pretty bad things to me if I – and I quote  – ‘knock you up and leave you’.”

“Seriously?” Peeta nods. Ugh, Gale is such an asshole. “What gives him the right to say crap like that to you?”

Peeta shrugs. “That’s pretty much what I told him, too.”

But I do understand where what Gale said came from. I suspect that Gale’s motives for resenting Peeta may be entirely selfish. But the fact remains that Gale, like me, has seen more than a few pregnant, unmarried Seam girls who have been left by their children’s fathers, both Seam and from Town. He knows very well how hard life is for them.

I look at the bed. It’s what Madge calls a queen size bed. It may be one of the narrowest in the Undersee household, but it’s much wider than any of the beds in our house. It’s neatly made up. No one’s been inside here tonight. Unlike most of the other beds in the house, I’m afraid.

I lick my lips nervously. This is suddenly becoming very real. It’s just me, Peeta, and this bed. What do I do now? I have no idea.

I sit down on the bed, and Peeta sits down next to me. Close, but not too close. Not touching.

“I don’t really want to talk about Gale and Madge right now, though,” I admit. Talking about Gale, in particular, would really kill the mood.

“Neither do I,” he answers. “There’s something I wanted to say before, but it’s kind of personal, and it didn’t seem like the right time when there were so many people around. I, uh….” He clears his throat. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

I freeze. “What for?” I ask. Fear surges through me at the thought that maybe he regrets what happened.

He hesitates. “Well…” He clears his throat again. “This is pretty embarrassing,” he confesses with a shy smile. “But I had a _very_ good time last night. I suppose you noticed.”

“I did,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks flush.

“Yeah. But the thing is, I wanted _you_ to feel as good as I felt, too.” I look up at him, not quite understanding what he means. He looks hesitant, nervous. “I wanted you to come, too,” he clarifies. “But you didn’t, and I feel like it’s my fault, that I was too… lost in how good you made me feel to reciprocate. Afterwards, I felt selfish, and that’s absolutely the _last_ thing I want to feel when I’m with you.”

“Oh.” I’m not used to talking about these things. Whenever Madge has talked about sex, I’ve been too mortified to speak. And the talk I had with Mother… Ugh. She did all the talking, I hardly said a word. “I suppose there wasn’t time for _that_ yesterday anyway,” I stammer. “Mother and Prim could have come home at any minute.”

“Yeah, but we still took the time for me to get off, though. But not you. Right?” I reluctantly nod. “I know we’re sitting on a bed in a locked room,” he says softly, “but I don’t want to make assumptions here. I don’t mean to pressure you in any kind of way. I just want you to know that whenever it happens, whenever we _go further_ , I don’t want it to be like yesterday. I want you to enjoy it as much as I do.”

I exhale shakily, nodding.

“And for that to work, I need you to talk to me, okay? Tell me what you like.”

I don’t really want to confess to him how little I know about my own body. How my knowledge about what I like is limited to a few afternoons in secret hideaways in the woods last summer, always on days when I knew Gale was in the mines. My face was burning with shame even though there was no one there to see.

“There’s literally nothing in the world I want more than to make you come,” he whispers into my hair, and something tingles along my spine at his words, making its way down to between my legs.

“Really?” I breathe.

“Really,” he confirms.

I’m not very good with words, I’ve always preferred actions. So I reach out for him, and my lips crush against his. We lie back on the bed, and his hand travels up under my skirt, pushing it up. Over my stockings, he finds the bare skin of my thighs, and he groans. I quickly get rid of the stockings, and then I start to unbutton his shirt with trembling hands. The skin I uncover is so soft, but the muscles underneath are hard, probably from lifting all those bags of flour at the bakery. There are a few blond hairs on his chest. I touch them curiously. He shrugs his shirt off, throwing it onto the floor, and then he flips us over so I’m straddling him.

Through only thin layers of clothing, I can feel him hard against me. Yesterday, feeling him like this for the first time was a shock. Tonight, although I can’t really say that it’s become a habit already, I know this is definitely something I could get used to. And very quickly, for that matter. A shiver runs through my body when Peeta shifts underneath me, causing his cock to stimulate my clit. A moan escapes my lips, and our eyes meet. He’s panting, looking up at me with his mouth half open.

I slowly lift my dress up. Peeta moves so that I’m sitting on his lap, and helps me when the dress gets stuck over my shoulders. I throw it onto the floor, too. Peeta’s eyes widen as he looks at me, half-naked in his lap, wearing only panties and a bra. He reaches a hand out to touch my breast, his eyes questioning. I nod and he exhales shakily, his fingers cupping my breast through the thin fabric. He fumbles behind my back, trying to open the clasp. It takes him a few attempts to figure it out.  

“I’ve never done this before, and I just want to make this good for you. Okay?” he says, as he throws my bra to the floor, too.

“Okay.” This time, I’m less hesitant about showing him my body. The look of hunger in his eyes as he stares at my breasts makes me feel more confident. He seems more sure of himself this time around, having both seen and touched my breasts before. His lips close around a nipple while his hand palms the other breast. My panties and the rest of his clothes are lost in a frenzy of heated kisses; fumbling and desperate hands, both his and mine, are trying to touch everything, everywhere, all at once. The air in the room is cold, so he pulls me under the covers with him. Peeta climbs on top of me, our tongues dueling and my hands roaming over his strong back. For the first time, I feel his cock against the bare skin of my inner thigh. There’s no fabric separating us anymore. I gasp, tearing my mouth away from his. His cock is so _hot_ , pulsating against my skin. It’s hard, rough in a way, but soft at the same time. My body starts shaking. I’m not sure if it’s anticipation or if I’m just nervous. Probably both.

He tears his mouth away from mine, panting as he looks down at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

But I’m sure he can feel how my body is trembling. He rolls off of me, pulling me with him so we end up lying on our sides facing each other, with my thigh draped over his hip. We just lie there for a while, trying to control our breathing. Getting used to being this close, and naked, together.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I sneak one hand between us. Our eyes are locked as my fingers hesitatingly close around him for the first time. “Oh, Katniss… _Fuck_ ,” he moans.

An unexpected feeling of power courses through me at his reaction. I swallow hard as I continue to explore him. He’s hard, but the skin is as smooth as silk at the same time. Also, he’s clearly too big. Holding him in my hand, it’s crystal clear that there’s just no way he’s going to fit inside me. I can barely close my fingers around him. I look down between us, and for the first time, I actually _see_ him.

No way.

I bite my lip, but hesitatingly start to stroke him, up and down, a few times. The way I heard girls at school giggle about.

“Katniss, you have to stop that,” he groans.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, mortified. “I don’t know what I’m…”

“No, I meant that if you keep that up, this is going to be over before it’s even begun. Like yesterday.” He blushes.

“Oh.” I don’t really know how to tell him that he’s never going to fit, not without making a fool of myself.  

“What is it?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft, considering how my hand is still on his cock. “You suddenly seem so tense.”

I close my eyes in embarrassment. He said I have to talk to him. And I suppose that’s the only way to get through this. “It’s not going to work,” I blurt out, before I have the chance to change my mind. “You’re too big, there’s no way you’re going to… um, _fit_. You know. Inside.”

I open my eyes and look down between us again. There are a few drops of liquid coming out of the slit on the head of his cock. I realize I’m still holding around him, and release my hand, as he requested.

“We don’t have to do _that_ ,” Peeta says, his voice husky. “We can just do… other stuff. If you want.”

My panties are wet. “No, I want to,” I admit, and Peeta exhales shakily at my words. “I just… Don’t know how it’s going to work.”

“I told you I don’t have much experience,” Peeta says hesitantly. “But Rye has told me – well, to tell you the truth, he can never stop talking about sex.” He talks really quickly, the words seeming to tumble out of his mouth. “And he’s made it his mission in life to, well… _educate_ me on sex. Mainly to embarrass me, I think, and believe me, it really is embarrassing. But it’s also sort of useful sometimes. And…”

“And?”

“He said that we need to take our time.”

“ _We_?!” Has Peeta talked to Rye about the two of _us_? 

“Just in general,” Peeta quickly adds. “Not ‘we’ as in ‘you and I’ we, just… Any girl’s first time, I guess. Anyway, Rye said that if we just take it really slow and make sure you’re… adequately prepared… it’ll be easier.”

“That’s what I heard too,” I admit. From my own _mother_. I start to cold sweat just thinking about that conversation. I almost think I’d rather have had ‘the talk’ with Rye instead. Almost.

“He also said that it’ll be easier if you’ve come first. Before we… go all the way.”

I swallow. That’s something Mother _didn’t_ tell me. I have no idea how to respond to that. Peeta bites his lip. “I’ve been fantasizing about you coming a _lot_. For years actually,” he admits. He pauses. “I’m sorry if that freaks you out, if you think it’s weird or anything…”

“No, it’s not… weird. Just… it’s not something I’m used to hearing anyone say to me. Obviously.”

“I just want you to know that I don’t look at it as just… sort of warming up. Regardless of what we do or don’t do _after_ , there’s literally nothing I’d rather do than to make you come.” There’s a sudden gush of wetness between my legs at his words, but thankfully, he doesn’t know. He swallows audibly. “Will you let me, Katniss?”

His words are making my core throb even harder. I nod. “Yes,” I answer breathlessly.  

He sits up, his hands finding my breasts again. He teases my nipples with his fingertips, then with his tongue. While he sucks lightly on one of my breasts, causing me to arch under him, one of his hands slips lower, over the soft skin of my abdomen. Slowly, as if he’s giving me time to change my mind. 

I shift, lying down on my back instead of on my side, and spread my thighs for him. My body bucks when he reaches the small patch of coarse hair, and he gasps. My thighs spread even wider, as if of their own volition. He releases my breast from his mouth, breathing heavily as his fingertips slip a bit further down, finding wet, slippery flesh. He touches me tentatively at first, running his index finger lightly up and down my folds. “You’re so wet,” he groans in my ear. I’m unable to answer, because his fingers find – _oh_.

“Peeta,” I whimper, and my body jerks.

“Does that feel good?”

I nod, taking in a shaky breath between my teeth. He fumbles around down there, and it feels good, but it’s not quite…

I share a bed with Prim, so I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to figure this out on my own. But last summer, on a few really hot summer days alone in the woods, I did some… exploring. My hand moves down, joining his between my legs. Peeta mumbles something in my ear that I can’t quite hear. I guide his hand, and as soon as his fingers find _that_ place, a whimper escapes from my lips, and my entire body tenses, my back arching up from the mattress again.

“There,” he says, his voice hoarse. It’s not a question anymore.

“Mmhmm.”

Peeta’s index finger traces a pattern around my clit, a circle, and it takes everything I’ve got not to moan loudly. It feels so different when it’s not my own hand touching myself, when I don’t know exactly what is coming next, or how. It’s too much, but at the same time, it’s not enough.

He explores my soaked folds as he makes gentle, yet sometimes slightly jerky circles around my clit. The tip of one of his fingers finds my opening and slips inside just a little bit, and I can’t help but clench around him. He doesn’t move, keeping his finger perfectly still inside me as our eyes meet. His skin is flushed and his eyelids are heavy.

“Does that feel good?” he asks.

I’m not quite sure how to answer. “Yes,” I finally say. “I mean, it feels weird, but…” His thumb slides over my clit again, so slippery and wet, and I muffle my moan against his shoulder.

“Weird?”

“Yes, I think it’s just that I’m not… used to it.”

He bites his lip. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Can I try to… go a bit further in?”

I nod.

I can’t help but tense, anticipating the intrusion, but he surprises me by kissing me instead. I eagerly open my mouth to meet his tongue, and as our kiss deepens, my body automatically relaxes. Peeta moans into my mouth as his finger easily slips deeper inside me.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his voice almost desperate, when our lips part. A second finger joins the first. Two fingers are a lot thicker than just one, and it’s slightly uncomfortable. But the steady strokes over and around my clit distract me, and gradually, it starts to feel less weird and more… pleasant. “You’re so wet, and… fuck, so tight.” He bucks against my hip, and I feel his cock burning against me. “I never thought I’d get to do this, you’re… You’re so beautiful.  And so unbelievably hot. You feel so amazing around my fingers. So _wet_ …”

Me being wet, which I at first thought was embarrassing, seems to really turn him on. I swallow deeply, feeling another rush of wetness between my legs at his words, so I suppose his words are turning me on, too. To my surprise, he removes his hand, and I feel strangely empty without his thick fingers inside me. He moves down in bed, sitting between my spread legs. I blush furiously as he stares at my most private parts with glassy eyes.

“Peeta?” I would close my legs if I could, but he’s sitting right between them.

“Wow,” he says, his voice raspy. “You’re the… most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I have no idea how he can think that I look beautiful _down there_. But from the awe in his voice and the look on his face, I’m pretty sure he’s telling me the truth. I swallow, then nod slightly, giving him permission to do… whatever it is that he wants to do.

It’s different when he’s _looking_ at me like I’m as radiant as the sun.  His fingers run through my folds, dipping into me just an inch or so to collect more of my fluids, which he then spreads, making everything even more slippery, making his touch feel even better. My hips are bucking almost uncontrollably now, as I feel my entire body tensing up. I screw my eyes shut, and can’t help the whimpers escaping from my lips.

Suddenly, I feel something different. His fingers are replaced by something… else. I open my eyes in shock and find that Peeta’s head is right between my legs, and his tongue… oh, his _tongue_!

“Peeta!” I gasp, almost in panic.

He immediately looks up at me, looking worried. “Am I doing something wrong?”

I can barely speak. My head is foggy, both from the alcohol and from the way he’s been touching me. “No… I just…”

“Did it not feel good?” He looks worried now.

“No, it did.” His face breaks into a relieved smile. “But why… I mean… You don’t have to…”

“I know, but I really want to,” he says, and I can see that his lips are shiny and moist. From _me_. “Unless you don’t want me to, of course.”

“But doesn’t it… doesn’t it taste…” It would seem I’m long past being able to speak in full sentences.

“You taste amazing, Katniss,” he says, his voice not quite steady. His pupils are huge, and he’s practically panting. He must be so close to coming himself. But he pauses, clearly waiting for my permission to continue.

“Okay,” I whisper. His mouth is on me again almost immediately, and I hear him groaning.

The combined feel of his tongue and his fingers, which have slipped inside me again, is almost too much. My body arches, trembles and spasms as it responds in ways that I had no idea it could.

It’s as if I’m stuck, trying to reach something I don’t quite know what is. But a flick of his tongue over my clit sends me over the edge, and I bury my head in a pillow to drown the moan as my body contracts around the two fingers inside me.

 I collapse onto the bed, exhausted. I throw away the pillow as I desperately pant for air. I feel Peeta’s fingers slip out of me and move up to my clit, and my body jerks almost violently. I’m too sensitive. I push his hands away.

“Did you… Did you come?” I open my eyes, blinking against the light. My entire body feels heavy. “You did, didn’t you?” He continues. I nod, unable to speak. “Oh _fuck_ , that’s...” He kisses me, sloppily, and I taste myself on him. It’s not unpleasant. It’s heady and earthy, and strangely, it makes me moan against his lips. He tears his lips away from mine, panting hard. His entire body is trembling.

He mutters something and moves, our limbs tangle and it’s confusing for a second. And then, suddenly, before I really know what’s going on, he’s lying on top of me, the tip of his cock grazing my soaking folds, searching for my entrance.

But there’s something we can’t afford to forget.

“Peeta… wait.” He looks at me with confusion as I scramble to get out of the bed and locate my handbag on the floor. I open it and close my hand around the little foil package. I get back into bed again, under the covers with him. I open my hand, showing him, and his eyes widen.

 

* * *

 

 

**_Peeta_ **

I look at the small, shiny package. I wonder where she got it. Condoms are hard to get hold of in 12. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, and I can feel my heart racing in my chest even harder than before. Her lips are swollen, and her pupils are so dilated I can barely see a silvery ring around them.

“Are you sure?” I ask her, my voice not quite steady. I’m so hard it’s almost painful. The only reason I haven’t blown my load already just from touching Katniss, _tasting_ her, is that I followed Rye’s advice and jerked off three times earlier today.

“Yes.” She looks at me, her complexion rosy from her recent orgasm – the orgasm _I_ gave her. I feel ridiculously proud that I could do that for her. She gives me the condom. “Perhaps you should put it on. I don’t really know how.” She bites her lip. “Well, my mother told me how to do it when she gave me them to me…”

So that explains where she got the condoms. “Ouch. Awkward.” I grimace.

“You have no idea,” she exhales, and I chuckle. “But I’ve never actually tried to put one on,” she admits.

I’ve tried putting a condom on exactly once. It was an expired one that Rye gave me on my 14th birthday, thankfully not in front of Mother. He thought it was hilarious, and I was so embarrassed. But later, when I was on my own, I figured I could at least use it for practice, even though Katniss never even looked in my direction at school and it didn’t really feel as if there was any point in practicing. I’m thankful for Rye’s gift now, though. I really don’t want to mess this up.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to control my body. I’m so close, so very close… I’m glad Katniss gave me the condom instead of putting it on herself. If she touches my cock right now, I’m pretty sure this will be over before it has even really begun. I attempt to rip open the packaging, but I fumble because my hands are shaking so badly. I lose the condom and it falls down on the bed. I quickly pick it up, but before I try again, I look up at her. Our eyes meet. Her slightly hazy eyes are wary, yet determined.

I blink quickly, trying to focus.

Hazy.

Dammit.

I close my eyes. We can’t do this. Not now. It’s not supposed to happen like this.

I sit up. “Let’s save this for some other time, okay?” It takes pretty much all the willpower I’ve got to put the condom on the nightstand.

Her brow furrows, her mouth dropping open in confusion. “Don’t you want to…?”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about having sex, or about using a condom. “I do,” I assure her. “I mean, I _really_ want to be with you. And when we do, of course I’ll always wear a condom if we have one. But we can’t do this, not now.”  

Katniss sits up with her hands around her knees, covering her body with the sheet. “Why not?” Her voice sounds hurt, and her body language clearly tells me she’s putting up a wall between us. I know her now. I know that’s what she does when she’s hurt or feels insecure, and I can’t let her.

“We can’t let our first time happen while we’re both drunk,” I blurt out. “Not at a stupid party, in a random bed that just happened to be available and with a bunch of strangers on the other side of the door. I’ve waited too long, we both have, for this to be just a quick fuck. I’ve dreamed of doing this with you, so many times, and I just want it to be… special.”

Katniss’s shoulders relax. “You’re right, Peeta,” she whispers. I reach out my hand, and to my relief, she takes it. Her fingers intertwine with mine. “I was just so nervous, and what you were doing felt so _good_ , and… Well, I was curious.” So she’s been thinking about this, too. “I guess I figured we might as well get it over with,” she blurts out, clearly embarrassed.

I lean forward. Her lips are so soft, and she tastes even sweeter than normal because of the punch. This kiss is less urgent than before, but no less intoxicating. “But it’s not something we should just ‘get it over with’, is it?” she asks when our lips part.

I shake my head. “No. I mean, I’ve had that thought sometimes, too… When Rye was teasing me, or when my friends were talking about girls in the locker rooms after wrestling practice. But now…” My voice trails off.

Our eyes meet and she smiles, and I can’t help but think that she looks relieved, which makes me even more certain that stopping was the right decision. “We’ll get there,” she says. “When it’s the right time and the right place.”

I nod. “Yeah.” I try to ignore the insistent pulsing in my groin. My brain knows that stopping now is a good idea, but my cock doesn’t quite agree. I lie back on the bed, and Katniss does too. She somewhat awkwardly lays her head on my shoulder, but quickly relaxes into me. Her left breast is pressed against my chest, and her fingers play lightly with the few hairs I’ve got there. I can’t stop a groan from escaping from my lips.

Katniss bites her lip. “You haven’t come yet, have you?” she asks, her voice low.  

I grimace, shaking my head. 

Katniss looks down at my body. There’s not much to see because our lower bodies are covered by a sheet, but she can probably make out the way my cock is straining against it. She takes a deep breath. “Maybe I can help?”

I inhale sharply. I have to close my eyes and slowly count to ten to keep my impending orgasm at bay. When I open them again, I find that Katniss is observing my face intently, waiting for my answer.

Not trusting myself to speak, I quickly nod. Her small, strong hand travels tentatively down my chest, pushing the sheet down to expose more naked skin. Her fingers find my belly button, reach the line of hair that starts below it, following the trail of hair downwards. Her fingers tentatively close around my cock, and even though she’s not using even near enough pressure, I can’t stop myself from bucking against her. Just knowing that this is _Katniss Everdeen_ who’s touching me is enough to…

“Not yet,” I desperately think. “Not yet. I’ve gotta hold on just a little bit longer…”

“ _Fuck_ ,” I moan out loud, and I hear her gasp. I open my eyes. She looks so incredibly sexy – she’s naked and just had an orgasm, and we’re in the same bed, and I feel the familiar tightening in my lower belly, and...

“What do I do?” she whispers, lightly running her fingertips along the length of my cock, leaving a trail of fire.

I feel it coming, in the base of my spine and in my balls. I can’t hold back much longer. “Just touch me, the way you did before... Close your fingers around my cock. But use a bit… more pressure. You won’t hurt me.” I can barely get the words out, but she understands, and immediately does what I ask her to. “Feels so good.” My voice is almost desperate.

Her face lights up at my words. My own hand closes around hers, showing her with nearly erratic movements how to touch me. She quickly gets it, that I need more speed, more pressure, and mimics my movements. I remove my hand again. She’s still a bit hesitant, but she seems to become more self-confident when she sees how eagerly I react to her touch. “ _Fuck_ , yes, like that…” I want to hold on, I want it to last longer, forever, but there’s no stopping this anymore. A guttural groan escapes my throat, I close my eyes, and everything just explodes. I come in spurts, harder than I remember ever having done so in my life.

When I finally manage to open my eyes, it takes a few seconds before I’m able to focus. I’m panting hard. Katniss’s hand is glistening with my cum.

Dammit. For the second time in two days, I lasted less than two minutes. If Rye finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it. At least I don’t have cum in my pants tonight. I guess that’s something.

Katniss studies her hand with a look on her face I can’t quite identify. Surprise? Disgust? Confusion?

“That was… wow,” I laugh breathlessly, a bit self-consciously. “I didn’t mean for it to be over this quickly, but you were just so… It felt so good.”

She hides her face against my shoulder, but I can still see that she’s smiling. A slow, probably ridiculously wide and lazy post-orgasmic smile spreads over my face, too.

“What do I do with this?” she asks, looking down at her sticky hand.

I look around. The room has three doors – one to the hallway, one leading to the Mayor’s office, but what about the third one? I get out of bed and discover that I’m right: it’s a small adjourning bathroom. We both wash up quickly and slip into bed again. I know we should probably go downstairs, it must be midnight soon. But the chance to spend some time alone with Katniss, when we’re both naked and sated, is too tempting. I pull the blanket up to keep us warm.

“Two weeks ago, would you have thought that we’d be lying like this tonight?” I kiss the top of her head.

She snorts. “Hardly. Two weeks ago, I was still trying to get out of going to the Midwinter party with Madge.”

I chuckle. Her heart rate is slowing down to a more normal rhythm. So is mine.

“So much has changed in just two weeks. It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“I know,” she says. “I think everyone else agrees with that, too. Mother, Gale, and your parents too, I suppose…”

I don’t really want to talk about anyone else right now. Not when we’re naked in bed together. “I guess.”

“So, you’ve been thinking about this a lot? Us. Our first time,” she clarifies.

“Yeah.” If she only knew.

“So how did you imagine that our first time would be?”

I trace patterns on the skin of her back with my index finger. Circles, turning into flower petals. “Well, I had so many different fantasies,” I admit. “But they always had one thing in common. That it felt _right_ , you know?”

“I think you’ve given this a lot more thought than I have,” she says.

“I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been dreaming about a girl for 13 years,” I smile. “Anyway, I think it’s probably a good idea to get to know each other’s bodies better before we go all the way. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” She looks up at me. “You’ve always wanted our first time to be perfect, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” I admit.

“That’s a lot for me to live up to,” she whispers.

I hug her tighter. “You’re perfect already,” I assure her.

“No, I’m not,” she objects. “And you have to stop saying that. I’m stubborn, and I scowl most of the time, and I’m not very sociable, and…”

“Well, to me, you’re perfect.”

She sighs. “Peeta!”

I laugh. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I’m in bed with a beautiful, naked girl. Of course I’ll think you’re perfect.” She pinches the skin of my chest. “Ow!” I exclaim. “And you have excellent grip strength, too. That’s one more thing on the already very long list of your virtues.” She pinches me harder. “Okay! I promise I’ll stop talking about how amazing you are.”

“That’s better,” she smiles.

From downstairs, we can hear what sounds like lots of very drunk people counting down to midnight. “Five – four – three – two – one –” The party downstairs seems to go wild at the end of the countdown, with lots of cheering and something heavy being shattered against the floor.

“Sounds like another one of Mrs. Undersee’s vases,” Katniss says.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

She sits up a bit, leaning on her elbow, and kisses me lightly on the lips. “Happy New Year, Peeta,” she murmurs.

“Happy New Year, Katniss.”

Her fingertips trace the line of my jaw. We lie there for a while, I have no idea how long. Enjoying just being close, feeling each other’s heartbeat. Skin against skin. Kissing from time to time.

I don’t even realize that I’ve fallen asleep until Katniss shakes my shoulder. “Peeta?”

I blink. She’s so lovely like this, with fuzzy hair and flushed skin. “What?”

“I guess we shouldn’t fall asleep here.”

We reluctantly get out of bed and get dressed. I’m about to leave the room, when I suddenly remember the condom on the nightstand. I go back to retrieve it and stuff it in my pocket.

We go downstairs, hand in hand. I can’t help scanning the crowd, but I don’t see Gale anywhere. Madge also seems to have disappeared. The number of partying people seems to have increased even further since we went upstairs. And, as Katniss said, the number of vases in the Undersee household has decreased by one.

“This doesn’t look good,” Katniss says, sounding worried. “What time is it?”

“Almost 12.30.”

“We have to find Madge. I think it’s time to put an end to this party. It’s past midnight, and I have no idea when the Undersees are coming home from the party at Cray’s.”

“You’re right,” I say. But unlike Katniss, I’ve been to parties like this before. Getting all the guests to leave – I’m sure there must be more than a hundred of them – is going to be hard. And hiding the traces of this party will be impossible.

I spot Madge, hand in hand with Gale. Looks like they’ve been in the dining room. “Madge is over there.”

“So is Gale,” Katniss mutters. “I don’t know if I can deal with his bullshit right now.”

“We’ll need his help,” I object. “People listen to him.” Besides, a dark, pretty cruel part of me that I’m not at all proud of wants Gale to see Katniss and me, after spending more than an hour in bed together, naked.

“Katniss and Peeta, there you are! I haven’t seen you in _ages_!” Madge giggles when she sees us. Katniss blushes, and Gale looks like he’s been eating sour berries or something.

“Yeah, we’ve been, uh… Um, we’ve been thinking that it’s time to end this party,” Katniss says.

“I know,” Gale says. “I tried to…” He stops short, and his eyes widen in horror as he looks at something over my shoulder. Beside him, Madge pales, too. Katniss and I turn around, to see that the front door is open, but it’s not another onslaught of drunk teenagers looking for a place to party.

It’s Mayor Undersee and his wife, with shocked looks on their faces as they take in the disaster area that is their house.

_Oh, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and comments are always <3!

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I had intended for this to be a one-shot, after finishing it, I started wondering… What would happen the next day? So needless to say, there’s going to be a part two. And part three. If you subscribe, you’ll be alerted when it’s up. 
> 
> The song Katniss sings is a folk song from the southern Appalachians called “Black is the colour”. It’s from the book English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians by Maud Karpeles (ed.), which was first published in 1917. The songs were collected by Olive Dame Campbell and Cecil J. Sharp, and this particular song was sung by Mrs. Lizzie Roberts at Hot Springs, NC in 1915. I took some liberties with the lyrics. The text originally said “But black is the color of my true love’s hair”, but I changed it to “blond”. Because, you know. Peeta. There are six verses, but I only used four of them. I got the lyrics from this site: http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/english-folk-songs/southern-appalachians%20-%200355.htm and you can read the full version of the song there. 
> 
> Happy holidays!


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